Feral
by BloodRedDemon
Summary: Neglected in favour of his younger brother, Harry Potter always was dissatisfied. His Parents and their friends fawned over Thomas, no matter what the older brother did. Harry upped and left; why would he have stayed? 6 years later, Harry Potter found a new home. The boy is in the middle of it all, though. What will his role be? Where will his allegiance lie?
1. Prologue Part 1

**I'll say again, this is an AU fic. Harry is very different in this. As well as that, he's 2 ye****ars older than in cannon. The basic plot will stay somewhat similar through GOF and OOtP; though I'll make some additions and alterations to both.**

**I hope you enjoy this story.**

**Needless to say, I don't own Harry Potter. That is true throughout this Fic.**

**Please Favourite/Follow/Review.**

**(I've edited this slightly as of the 12****th**** of June, 2015. Added 1000 words, somehow, but mostly I've edited the parts that are from Harry's perspective since it occurred to me that his change was too quick and extreme to make sense.)**

**-()()()()()()-**

**I thought I already clarified this, but have been corrected in a few recent reviews!**

**Harry, Daphne and Tracy are all in third year when Ron and Hermione enter the school, and so are two years older. Astoria, likewise, is two years older and therefore is in Slytherin with Draco in the same year. Fleur is in Harry's year, which means she is a Sixth year in Goblet of Fire. I don't know if this is different or not, I don't know which she was in in Canon, but assume I have de-aged her by about a year.**

**-()()()()()()-**

Andrew Greengrass was disgusted with his family. With his _name_. His pathetic _ancestors _and their practise of bending to the wills of the bigoted families.

Because of a _long standing tradition_, he was expected to sign his daughter off to _Malfoy_ and his brat of an heir?! Not acceptable! Andrew was intending to stay in the category of Grey permanently, and if he had to, he would sever the ties he had with those of the dark variety. They were valuable for the simple reason that his family was a no-go for attacks whenever a Dark Lord rose, but he would _not_ betray his family. Never!

'He even had the _nerve_ to try to have _my_ daughter as a _second wife_ to his spoilt brat of a son!' Lord Greengrass snarled to himself. 'If he hadn't had his cronies with him, he'd be going home without the ability to sneer.' Close to a dozen of the known, but un-prosecuted Death Eaters were surrounding Lucius as he tried to _convert_ Andrew to the Dark Lord's side.

The 'Dark Lord's side'. Everyone knew he had been vanquished, yet Malfoy still tried to bank on his old master's power as much as possible; squeezing every last benefit from the name Voldemort and the fear that people still felt at the very implication of the brutal terrorist. Little Thomas Potter had defeated the 'strongest wizard in Britain', and Lucius still expected Andrew to quake in his boots at the mention of his master's order. Not likely.

Something told the livid Businessman that his daughters would not be a fan of Draco when the little sod began at Hogwarts in 4 years time. How could a 7 year old _be_ that arrogant? He may have to teach Daphne a few borderline curses to ensure that nothing happened to her in Slytherin. Assuming that's where she went, anyway. But, since she was his little ice princess, he was near certain that his prediction would come to pass.

At least she'd have Tracy in the house with her; the two were constant companions. Well, the four were, but Caroline struck him as a Ravenclaw more so than his own house. And Jasmine may well join her. He remembered a few girls of her sort in that house from his own time in Hogwarts.

But Malfoy's power at Hogwarts would undoubtedly mean his son would be able to get away with murder. Daphne would be fine. She was extremely subtle. Caroline was intelligent enough to avoid trouble in the first place. Jasmine was too kind to consider violence. But Tracy? Tracy he was worried about. The girl was a little naïve, and would no doubt retaliate in the less-than Slytherin manner. She would, _hard_, and teach the others not to mess with her.

_Draco_ would not learn from that, though. He would just run to his daddy and have him clean up the mess. Adelaide would have his hide if anything happened to one of the girls. He shivered in fear.

It was lucky he did.

That shudder that ran the length of the tall man's body meant that he felt the pickpocket before the child vanished back into the shadows. Diagon alley didn't often have thieves, and so Andrew had let his guard down. No doubt it was a successful hunting ground for the kid. Target the prosperous, and take a few galleons each time. Plenty to live on food wise, but people with the money that Andrew had would not pay the loss any mind on the off chance that they noticed it missing.

Unfortunately, Andrew was no ordinary noble. No, he was the husband of Adelaide Greengrass. And he'd be damned if he let a _child_ live on the streets.

He took chase, pursuing the now fleeing boy down the street, and through a side alley. The kid was quick, scampering through the obstacles that Andrew Greengrass ploughed through, his large frame making this the easier option.

The child looked to be no older than 11. So to say that he was shocked when the red light of a stunner shone through the alley, and the bolt shot toward him, would be an understatement. Now, he was curious himself as to who this child was. He picked up the pace as the two ran out into another open area; leaving the narrow alleyway.

In the dead of night, the cobbled street they had arrived in was empty of everything and everyone. This gave Andrew a huge advantage with his longer legs, and his bounds allowed his to catch up to the small framed thief quickly, only for a tripping jinx to knock him off balance.

That one definitely originated from the child he was pursuing.

Lord Greengrass caught himself quickly and saw that the boy had only achieved a few yards distance between the chaser and the chasee. With ease, he closed this distance and seized the boy by his shoulders. He looked down at the child, his black hair and dark muggle clothing making it easy to see how he blended in so easily.

The glowing emerald orbs that stared at Andrew, on the other hand? They were not so subtle.

-(_)-

Adelaide Greengrass watched her 5 daughters, delighted as four giggled gleefully and the other one smiled happily. She would offer no prizes for guessing which witch that was.

She loved her family. She loved her daughters, loved her surrogate daughters, and loved her husband.

Her love for the charming Andrew Greengrass was furthered by his support in her endeavour. Tracy had always been a good friend to Daphne, and when her parents had perished in a Death Eater raid, Adelaide insisted that the couple take her in. They had officially adopted her soon enough. Now, the two had grown up as sisters since they were 5. They had always been inseparable, and this bond was only strengthened with the addition of two more best friends for their small group, and a younger sibling that looked up to them.

Of course, Astoria was very much the little sister, but she had always been welcome nonetheless. The two were surprisingly protective of the younger girl, and Caroline had inherited that trait.

Caroline had been in a muggle orphanage until half-way trough her 7th year. Then, Lady Greengrass had sensed the presence of a magical-child when the 5 were walking through London, and they had jumped at the opportunity to adopt yet another into their growing family. A strange trait it was that Adelaide possessed, that allowed her to sense the presence of magic in others no matter how small the spark was. She ignored it, normally, but her attention was dragged, forcefully, to the orphanage upon finding there was a child that needed her help.

Jasmine had been more recent; nearing 4 months now. The noble couple didn't know what happened to her family, as both parents had been unspeakables. They could have been doing an experiment that went wrong. They could have known something they shouldn't have and been killed by their fellows because of it. They could have been obliviated, and sent to live in Saudi-Arabia. They didn't question taking her in when she needed it, though. And now the family consisted of 6 females and one male.

Neither of the two said it, but they did long for a son. Whether a true son or surrogate, it mattered little. The family just didn't feel complete, and Adelaide knew that Andrew had never mentioned that he was missing an heir to carry on his family name because he was afraid she would think him to be blaming her, as many Pureblood males did their wives. She had heard of the women that vanished when they were deemed unable to produce and heir for their husbands.

Little did Adelaide know, her prayers were being answered at that very moment. In the form of an unbelievable 10 year old boy.

-(_)-

"Girls?" The man who referred to himself as Andrew called out as the two arrived inside a large house. Emerald eyes flicked over the wall with a fearful quality, as Harry's mind tried to process the unknown, but recognisable, tone. Eventually, he reached the conclusion that it was happiness, and his confusion only increased as he prepared to flee from the strange man; if he started a fire before fleeing, Harry would be given the chance to get away as the man panicked at his residence being aflame, and that was the plan that he settled on.

The plan faded away as the sound of light footsteps reached Harry's ears; he might not be able to get away if he had more than one of these people chasing him. As he decided to wait for a better opportunity to flee, Harry saw 6 females approach the male holding him, at a fast pace, through the doorway. One was around the Man's age, four were around the age Harry believed himself to be. One was younger than the others. They, too, looked happy and Harry's unease increased.

What reason did they have to be happy? Were they planning something?

"Daddy!" The youngest cried out, running forward. Running _towards_ the intimidating man. The two embraced. Happy, yet again. Daddy... that meant the same as father, Harry believed, and his eyes narrowed at the two hugging. That was not the relationship between father and child that he knew, after all, and his unease began to turn towards suspicion. Were they trying to trap him? Make him feel _comfortable_ before they attacked?

That must have been the purpose of the small one.

The other 4 approached the father, daughter and stranger in the entrance hall at a slightly more measured pace. Once the youngest stepped back, the oldest put her lips against his in greeting. An odd custom that Harry had seen human adults practice before. He could not understand the reason behind it, and his mind was focused on the imminent danger he believed himself to be in so he dismissed the confusion.

The other 4 greeted him in turn with a hug and a press of the lips on his cheek. Each smiling at the man as they did.

The eldest turned to face Harry with a smile. It was an expression Harry did not understand, as he saw a hint of her teeth. She did not appear particularly threatening, but the baring of one's teeth was a challenge, or hint of imminent danger, and so he assumed that the woman's not-intimidating appearance was simply a ploy. Wizards could be dangerous even if they looked soft, Harry knew.

"Who is this, Andy?" She sounded excited. Harry could not understand the emotion. Why would she be happy to have him in her home, if he was in fact the reason for her delight? Were they going to try to eat him? The promise of nourishment was enough to please most, but Harry would not let them butcher him without a fight. He believed that he could give them a challenge, fully intended to be victorious if it came to violence, and he began to make crude strategies; the smallest would probably be the one most valued, so the adults may be distracted if the ceiling was to break, and chunks of the sky were to fall towards the girl.

"This is Harry." Andrew patted Harry lightly on the shoulder and the boy only recoiled; his body tensing. This must have been the signal to attack. He waited, his fingers splayed, and was confused when no attack was forthcoming. The females smiled at the younger male, and Harry cursed his body as he unconsciously relaxed. The youngest stepped forwards, and held her hand out to him at the same time as baring her teeth in greeting. Harry looked at it, with trepidationn as he wondered at the meaning. Was it a greeting?

Harry racked his brain. What was the correct procedure? The men he observed would shake hands in greeting. Often when meeting those of the female gender, though, they did otherwise. These people seemed to be rich, and so he assumed that they did what was typical of their class.

The boy, eventually, took the young girl's hand slowly, still expecting an attack and wishing to draw it out while he was still prepared, and dipped his head slightly, brushing his lips against the youngest's knuckle as she giggled. The noise confused him, as he understood this to mean that one was amused. Did that mean that she was happy he had fallen for her trick? He found only happiness on the faces of the others; no sign that they were about to attack. Did that mean Harry had done something wrong? The raven haired boy looked, to check what reason she had to laugh. She appeared happy, although quite red. Was she over-heated? The room was rather cool, so his confusion rose even further. Andrew seemed to approve. Why did she giggle? Harry did not understand.

"Hello, Harry. I am Astoria Greengrass." She stated, with a curtsy, trying to act the part of a Lady. The others smiled at the attempt, and at the slight failure that came due to her happy grin.

"I am..." He struggled to find the words, and did not want to finish the sentence in his growl of a voice; changed after going so long unused. He forced himself to continue. "Harry... Potter."

The humans present gasped at his statement. They were shocked. And Harry knew why, for once, as unpleasant memories resurfaced.

They knew of him because of his _brother_.

Because of his _family_.

Because he _left_.

-()()()-

_A little over a year later._

It would be a strange sight to behold, even in the wizarding world, Harry believed.

The family he lingered on the outside of was quite large. Not as large as the orange haired family to the left, of course, but large nonetheless. The mother kissed goodbye her _daughters_, while her husband followed her, repeating the farewells. Both were teary-eyed at the emotions coming with losing the majority of their family for an entire year.

The youngest, not wanting to miss the departure, was stood off to the side with him. She was upset, too. Harry's hand was being squeezed as an outlet. He looked down at the small pressure, and debated what he should do in return. The boy settled on squeezing back, softly. Astoria gave a sad smile to him. She wouldn't be joining the 5 for 2 years. Harry was sure that she would be lonely. She was unused to loneliness, and so it saddened her. Harry felt some sympathy for this sadness, though he could not understand the emotional reaction to being alone. He, for one, was used to the state of being.

Checking that the adults were still occupied, the younger male in the group handed the girl a tiny rectangle parcel, and blinked one eye; imitating the gesture of reassurance that he had seen from Andrew. She copied his actions, and winked in return; trusting him that whatever it was would help. Harry thought that the two-way mirror that he had created would help lessen the loneliness, and hoped that he was correct.

The mother of the _family_ rounded on him, as her eyes filled with tears again. The bond between a mother and her son, even if it was a foster son, was special. Adelaide had gotten it into her head that a witch was going to steal him away before they saw each other again; Harry was unable to reassure her, since he was baffled by the notion of being stolen. When he voiced his confusion, the woman simply laughed. The Father had the opposite thoughts, being glad that Harry was going with the girls, and had entrusted the safety of his daughters to his 'son'. While he didn't quite feel like a son yet, since Harry had only lived with them for a little over a year and, more importantly, sturggled with affection, they had fostered the boy and so it was effectively the case.

Letting go of Astoria's hand, Harry responded in kind to the sudden hug; wrapping his arms around the woman in an effort to replicate the affectionate gesture.

"We'll write to you, I promise." He said, in a quiet tone, as she tightened her grip, in an attempt to soothe the woman's worries. He believed that was what she wanted to hear, and the kind woman's sadness saddened Harry, too.

"My little boy's growing up!" She wailed into his shoulder. Odd, she hadn't ever known him when he was "little". He supposed she was rattled and frazzled with her emotions at the sudden hole in her life. The house, no doubt, would be rather empty from now on, and Harry understood that they meant something more through the statement that they had a feeling of emptiness.

He arched an eyebrow at Daphne, questioning the sadness, and she smirked back at him, returning the look. Something about Harry's _arrival_, and the circumstances surrounding it, had made her mother very protective of him. Actually, that wasn't quite true. His arrival, and the damaged, but wonderful, person they had gotten to know subsequently, made all of the females in the 'family' fiercely protective of Harry. Andrew, too, in his own way. Though _his_ protectiveness focused on teaching Harry to defend himself, building on the surprising skills the 10 year old had already learned to imitate when Lord Greengrass found him. Andrew was looking forward to the letters they would get home regarding Harry putting older students into their place, even if he worried somewhat about the reaction of teachers to Harry's inclination towards fighting.

After complaining some more about his leaving, Adelaide Greengrass let her 'son' go, and the company parted, 5 heading onto the train while 3 waved sadly after them.

-(_)-(_)-

"Potter?" One repeated.

"The runaway?" Another asked.

"The brother of the boy-who-lived?" A third made the connection.

"I wonder he can get me an autograph?" That was the one that annoyed him the most.

McGonagall had called out Harry's name to be sorted. Unsurprisingly, the revelation that the older Potter brother was still alive shocked everyone in the hall. Students whispered excitedly, teachers watched with surprised looks, while some had more meaningful reactions, and everyone wondered about the look of the boy.

He was tall, for an 11 year old, and had a _rough_ look to him. Hair messy, as with every Potter, emerald eyes, and a furrowed brow drew their attention, and the Hogwarts cloak did nothing to hide the gait in his walk, and the slightly gaunt cheeks that implied he had not always been well-fed. He glared at everyone that he heard mention his old family, and wished the Transfiguration Professor hadn't use his name. Harry did not want any association with the family he had left years ago.

The hat fell to the boy's brow and he heard the knowledgeable voice of a hat in his head.

"_Well, aren't you an interesting one? Hmm." _The hat was silent for fifty-eight seconds. _"I'm unsure of where to put you. You certainly are fascinating." _The Hat sounded happy for the difficulty. The children were getting more and more simple these days. This year had been far better than usual for that. _"You must be the first sortie in centuries that would likely prosper in all 4 houses. I suppose I will have to take your own opinion into consideration... Given your opinion of the Potters; Gryffindor would be less than ideal, would you agree?"_

"_Correct." __Harry replied._

"_Of course, of course; Thomas Potter will be attending Hogwarts soon, won't he?__" __The hat continued, when Harry showed no intention to elarorate on his reasoning; looking inside the boy's mind.__ "Hufflepuff... no, no, that would go against Helga's own principles. Those you are loyal to are not in her house, after all."_

"_True."__Harry agreed, before continuing. "Hufflepuff lacks privacy__.__"_

"_Agreed." _The Hat had narrowed it down by half by now. _"Do you have a preference as to which house you would prefer, Harry?"_ Ravenclaw and Slytherin were both apt choices. _"Slytherin would allow you to get the privacy you desire, and would certainly help you on the road to greatness, but your keen mind would be very well suited to Ravenclaw, too. From what I see, both would be a perfect fit for you."_

"_I disagree. Ravenclaw would not be a fit. I am not... studious." _The first year sighed wearily, before a small spark of amusement danced in his eyes. _"I would rather Slytherin."_

_"And why is that__?"_

_"I have heard it has private rooms.__" __Harry said, simply._

"_That's right." _The hat sounded amused at this reason. Maybe not the best factor to take into account on his decision, but at least it helped to make the final choice. _"I guess that's my choice made. You, Harry Potter, will be in... SLYTHERIN!"_

**I'll do my best to respond to any reviews. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Feral.**


	2. Prologue Part 2

**I hope you enjoy this story.**

**Needless to say, I don't own Harry Potter.**

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_2 years later_

A 13 year old Harry Potter sat at his table, extremely uncomfortable.

Why were they all staring at _him_. Surely it should be at the boy sat atop the stool in front of the teachers, not at his older brother, though either of them would deny the relation if they had the option.

"Gryffindor!" Was there ever any doubt? Thomas sauntered over to the cheering table, as the twin Weasleys chanted that they "Got Potter". Still, the eyes in the hall remained on Harry. Not all of them, of course, but enough to make the socially awkward Slytherin uneasy.

Harry's _brother_ screamed arrogant. Even more than the blonde Ponce that had just sat down at the snake table. The boy-who-lived was speaking animatedly with the younger Weasley, after the redhead was sorted into the House of Lions, while Harry squirmed under the gazes of too many people.

"Trace." He whispered to the brunette sat next to him. "Why is everyone looking at me?" The girl took a break from glaring at the female population to answer him, easily telling a fib.

"Probably because of your brother." Harry accepted the explanation, unhappily, and nodded, annoyed at the relation and not noticing the telltale signs of the Davis girl lying. On Harry's other side, a blonde haired girl muttered her agreement, not taking her ice cold gaze off the offending females on the Ravenclaw table.

Harry turned an impassive look back onto the sorting, clapping politely as the 11 year olds were sorted, having learned that that was the normal thing to do; unlike the majority of his house, who only clapped for their fellow Slytherins. His house really was arrogant sometimes,a nd Harry could understand the ostracization they suffered because of the typical attitude.

The sorting passed by quickly enough, as the students were evenly split into 4. Unfortunately, his house had worse luck than normal based on the first impressions he got off those joining. 2 had constant sneers; they introduced themselves as Malfoy and Nott, and Harry's opinion was lowered by the fact that both families were well-known supporters of Voldemort. 2 more looked like gorillas and struck him as less intelligent than the primates would be. The only male that struck him as worth having in the house was a tall black boy that had an indifferent mask on. Seemingly a similar type of Slytherin to Daphne, and occasionally, when he remembered to do so, Harry; hiding his true self behind an indifferent mask. They were joined by a large girl, a pug-faced girl and a familiar figure; who was sat across from him. Harry smirked at Astoria as she looked distastefully at the bragging Malfoy heir, while the one called Pansy Parkinson stared at the blonde boy as though he was the reincarnation of Merlin and deserved her eternal love and respect.

Dumbledore made his speech. Telling the gathered children to avoid the third floor corridor couldn't possibly backfire could it? Moron.

Harry watched the younger Potter's eyes light up in excitement at that thought. Apparently he had inherited their _father_'s idiotic sense of adventure.

"My brother is going to get himself killed." Harry commented to Daphne as the school song began. Her eyes glinted slightly in amusement as she turned to him, but otherwise she refrained from any visible reaction. Ice queen indeed.

Harry joined his house in directing scathing looks at the twins of Gryffindor, as they dragged the song out far more than necessary. It really was an idiotic, and very annoying, tradition that the two insisted on prolonging each year.

Harry took to carving into the table with his fingernail as he waited for the food to be served. He soon felt the food appear in front of him and reached out to fill his plate, ready to sate his hunger.

"Eww..." Harry heard Tracy moan. When the emerald eyed boy turned to her, silently asking the origin of her noise, she continued. "Don't look at the youngest Weasley. That's repulsive." The ginger boy was shovelling food into his mouth, missing half the time and smearing the food over his face. Tracy pushed her food away. "Ugh. I've lost my appetite."

"The elves'll be happy to give you some food later, if your appetite comes back." Harry suggested, shrugging as he avoided glancing at the gold and red table. Or maybe the revulsion would not last long.

"You're right. But I'm really just looking forward to sleeping in my warm, big bed." Tracy sighed, smiling pleasantly at Harry, who returned the expression.

On the other side of the room, another Potter had taken note of his sibling. The chubby figure of Thomas Potter frowned at the least friendly looking students.

"Fred, George. Who's that?" He pointed over at the student, seeming to be in the twins' year, who had a more than passing resemblance to Thomas' father.

"That's Harry..." George trailed off, looking to his brother.

"Yeah..."

"Harry what?" That name was familiar.

"Um... Harry Potter? Y'know, your brother." Next to them, people began to direct their attention towards the boy. Several of the girls, through their looks, indicated attraction to the teen; the subtlety varying from each of the females, while others held looks of begrudging admiration for the younger student. Boys typically held some small jealousy for the boy, though one in particular, this being Wood, looked at him as though he was Satan himself.

Harry frowned at the increase in attention, as he felt eyes boring into him.

"What?!" Now, Thomas was angry. "_That's_ him?! The one that left my Mom and Dad heartbroken?! Because he was _jealous_ of me?!"

And, suddenly, Thomas was on the receiving end of several heated glares, that made the boy whimper, and cower in fear; unused to the unpleasantness on such a scale and unsure of what he had done to inspire such anger.

"W-What?"

"Everyone knows the story." One twin began.

"Your parents neglected him-"

"'Cus you were the boy-who-lived-"

"And you lot didn't even realise that he'd run away-"

"Until Flitwick visited-"

"And found that he was gone."

"So you aren't going to get any-"

"Sympathy here. Especially since-"

"He's by far the most popular Slytherin there is-"

"Since he doesn't bother anyone, and-"

"Even sides with non-Slytherins sometimes-"

"And he was voted the most-eligible boy-"

"In the school by a landslide-"

"Because so many of the girls want to fu_-ooph!"_

The people present were used to the odd habit the twins had when talking, so nobody bothered to bring it up. Nor did they question Angelina Johnson's decision to elbow whichever twin had been talking in the ribs.

"What?! Why?!" Thomas exclaimed. In his mind, Harry didn't deserve _any_ attention, being the prat he was. After all, he had been so cowardly and jealous he'd run away from home just because he didn't get as much attention as Tom did. And who could blame his parents? Thomas had defeated the greatest Dark Lord in history, Harry couldn't even write in English when he was 5 years old. "And who told you that Bollocks story?!"

"That would be professor Flitwick." The dark skinned girl sat near the twins, who had delivered an elbow to one of them's ribs, commented, frowning at the-boy-who-lived.

"Well then he lied!"

"Why on Earth would he do that?" The girl next to her queried. The diminutive professor was popular with every house.

"Because... I don't know?! But Harry must be Dark! He's in Slytherin! Maybe he used the Imperius curse on Flitwick or something!"

"No he's not!" The third member of that group snapped angrily at Thomas. Katie Bell was _very_... fond of Harry, and was known to be defensive of the older Slytherin. "He's _nice._" She stated. As she turned to that side of the room, her eyes met curious emerald ones, she gave a quiet shriek, and she ducked her head. The other two quiddich girls chuckled at their younger friend's reaction, as her face turned bright red, and shared a knowing grin.

"And we all know you're not at all biased, don't we Katie?" Fred commented, amused.

"Shut up!" She exclaimed, quietly, again.

"How do you expect to play against Slytherin if you can't even look at Potter?" A stern looking 5th year asked, sounding annoyed.

"Leave her alone, Wood." Angelina said, smirking. "We'll work with her. Harry'll like her more if he sees she can give him a challenge, after all." The dark skinned girl didn't miss the determined expression Katie adopted at this statement. "Focus on finding a seeker." The team really did need to find an excellent seeker. Else Slytherin would win yet again.

As the deserts appeared in front of Harry, he met the eyes of one of his friends, as he preferred to call them. They were all treated like family by the Greengrasses, but he definitely didn't think of them as sisters. Caroline was previously glaring at the girls in the hall. Of course she and the others had noticed Harry's growth over the summer, as was more common in Magucals given their earlier majority, and were certainly not going to complain, but these... these _harlots_ had no right to eye him like he was a piece of meat. That was their job... Wait, what? No, what she meant was that it was their job to keep these bitches away from the male friend of their group.

"What's wrong?" Jasmine questioned her fellow Ravenclaw, seeing her face redden drastically at her own train of thought.

"N-Nothing." Caroline stated a little too fast.

"Really?" Jasmine asked with a smirk. "So did I just miss the massive suntan that you have?" Caroline dipped her head, focusing on the chocolate cake on her plate.

The other Ravenclaw went back to glowering at any girl who's gaze lingered on the 3rd year Slytherin.

-()()()()-

In the dead of night, Harry Potter snuck back into the boy's corridor, having finished his job for the night. He plucked the splinter out of his nails and thanked whatever deity there may be that his core had expanded over the summer, else he couldn't have given the defences he did today without dropping like a sack of bricks in the middle of the corridor. This was the most important year for it after all; and that was the reason he had exhausted himself so thoroughly. _That_ had been put to rest from now on.

-(_)(_)(_)-

"It usually happens on the second night, doesn't it?" Jasmine asked nervously as she and Caroline were let into the Slytherin common room, arms full of food from the kitchen. It was just after 10:30am. The girls had let Harry sleep in some. Though far from the amount he would like.

"That's right." Daphne frowned while Tracy looked rather worried.

"Daph?" She murmured to her, arguably, closest friend.

"Yeah, Trace?" She replied quietly too.

"Do you think Harry will let us sleep with him tonight?" Daphne raised an eyebrow and Tracy's cheeks coloured slightly. "Sleep in his room tonight?"

"I'm sure he would, Tracy. But I've got a better plan than that." The blonde had a devious, and sadistic, smirk on her face. One that promised pain.

"Are you going to tell us? Or keep us in suspense?" Jasmine questioned.

Daphne responded with a grin to her rainbow haired friend.

"Think about the new trick that Harry showed us last week." The other girls looked slightly uneasy until they remembered _what_ they were discussing. The bastards deserved whatever they got.

"Which one?" Astoria pondered aloud. She hadn't doubted her sister's plan at all.

"Hmm. Good question. I say we leave that choice up to Harry."

They crossed the underground common room and up into the third year male dorms. At the end of the hallway, there was a single door that 4 of the girls had visited quite regularly over the past 2 years. Not for any funny business, just to see Harry. The door was made of dark, mahogany wood. If you really looked, you could see odd symbols painted onto it in dark red/black liquid. The front most girl, being Caroline, knocked loudly on his door.

"Hey, girls." Harry answered with a yawn, as the door swung open. His eyelids were drooping as he looked at the girls, stretching as he yawned. Unfortunately this just highlighted the absence of a shirt on his upper body. The girls, between the heating of their faces, again noted the single symbol on etched into his chest; mid point between his pectorals. An eye that was inverse; black sclera with white irises and pupils. He told them that that one hid the others. Whatever that meant. "What's up?" He asked with a sleepy, half-hearted smile, not noticing the red faces and the fact that their gazes certainly weren't on his face.

"Uh, yeah." Daphne was the first to succeed in fighting the blush and her face only remained slightly pink. "We brought you some breakfast. Why are you so tired?" Harry frowned.

"Did I not mention?" The girls all looked slightly baffled and/or annoyed, and shook their heads.

"Oh. I warded the rooms last night."

"What rooms?"

"The female ones." The girls frowned at this. They didn't like the implication; being that he would have exhausted his reserves in the process. "I put some specific runes on your room so I can catch them, but I dislike the practise as a whole."

"Oh..." Daphne was disappointed in the preventative measures. Not that she wanted _that_ to happen to _anyone_, she had just been looking forward to the plan she'd had.

"Are you okay? You sound upset." Harry tilted his head to the side, confused at the reaction his friend had.

"There was just something that I was going to ask you to do." She shrugged, voice one of misery. Caroline shook her head, amused; the guys tonight were in for a shock.

-(_)()(_)-

Marcus Flint, Jordan Scour and Edward Coulridge were taking the Malfoy heir with them on tonight's _adventure_. Tracy Davis and Daphne Greengrass had many suitors, but these three were the ones who won this right. All of them wore sinister grins, anticipating their fun.

Had they been paying more attention, had it been _far_ lighter, and had they been smarter, the 4 may have noticed the trap that they walked past, the small runes outlining the entrance to the corridor. Not that anyone would notice the effects anytime soon. The perpetrators would realise within the week, most likely; though they'd refuse to tell anyone for quite some time. Embarrassing as it would be to tell their peers, and considering the Hogwarts grape vine that seemed to find out anything humiliating and/or amusing.

Flint and the others had an invisible mark also on their forehead, one that read "DG & TD". The fools had failed to act in a Slytherin manner, and so had a Lion on their lower backs, too. That one was very visible. Those two, and one more that they'd be sure never to forget, would be the only effects to come into play for this room. Because, for what happened next, the three had to be able to flee.

Scour attempted to kick open the door, which should have worked. In this case, it was like kicking a concrete wall.

"Fuck!" He cursed as he held his toes, hopping on the other foot.

"Idiot." Coulridge commented, twisting the handle and opening the door normally. The room was dark, but even so, they quickly noticed that the beds were empty.

"What the- Where are those sluts?"

"Probably with Potter." Flint growled out.

"Well then, let's go get Potter!" Malfoy exclaimed, not knowing the reputation Harry Potter had. "I bet he's pathetic just like his brother!"

"Uh-uh. No way." Coulridge replied. "This is bad enough. I bet he's gonna know that we were the ones here anyway. I ain't him a free pass to use one of his freaky curses on us!" He was waving his hands in surrender.

"He's right." Flint said through gritted teeth. "Let's just move on to another room." He made to go to the room across the hall.

"T-Too l-late." Scour stammered. The others turned to him, intending to ask what he meant, but saw a pair of emerald orbs floating in mid air. The green eyes glowed slightly as they began to approach the 4.

"What The Fu-" A 700lb jet black cat slammed into Coulridge's chest, and the 6th year felt something snap as he was thrown back into the wall.

"Merlin!" In front of the three still conscious Slytherins, there was a large, though not fully grown, massive and shaggy big cat, with fangs associated with the prehistoric predator; suggesting this was the type, facing them, fangs bared.

The Sabre Tooth prowled forward, to the blonde first year, and let out a chilling growl, the fact that the cat's head was above the boy's to look down on him showed the massive size. The serious muscles visible even through it's coat hinted at the strength. It would be quite near the height of Flint, who was very tall for a sixth year. The smell of urine spread through the corridor.

The Sabretooth Cat roared, and Malfoy felt his bones rattle. The blonde boy's eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell to the ground. The other two present legged it away from the apex predator.

The black feline stalked after the pair, growling a low rumble all the while, with his teeth bared. As they reached the common room, Flint and Coulridge glanced back to see the monstrous animal barrelling towards them. Reaching half-way through the small hall, Harry leapt at the pair, sailing through the air, over the furniture between him and his _prey_, and slamming into Coulridge. Had his claws been out, the boy would have been eviscerated. As it was, he hadn't had them out at any point as he hunted tonight.

Marcus Flint was frozen. He couldn't escape this creature; even his tiny brain comprehended that. Now that he saw it up close, it appeared to have some Siberian Tiger in it, too. He already knew this thing was fearsome. The big cat was truly magnificent. Had it been Hagrid, he would have loved to meet the feline. Flint? Not so much.

The Sabretooth was built to slaughter game and beasts _much_ larger than the quiddich captain.

Fortunately for Flint, Slytherin would be excluded from the upcoming quidditch match were their captain to be in the hospital wing. And, so, the Emerald eyed animal just let out an almighty roar, sending him into an unnatural slumber in a pile of pungent liquid. The cat looked at him with disdain and slinked to the third floor boys' corridor.

-()()-

That morning was very interesting in the Slytherin. And it was only morning in the technical term.

At 2:30am the Slytherins heard a fearsome roar.

They slowly proceeded to the Common room, intending to investigate what was going on; slightly Gryffindor-ish of them, but they had curiosity nonetheless.

The sight they beheld when they left their dorm rooms was surprising to say the least. Particularly for the third-year girls. They, as soon as they left their rooms, were struck by the smell of Urine. Once the lights were turned on, they were greeted with an explanation of the smell. Or, at least, the beginnings of an explanation.

A blonde first year was lying in the centre of a wet patch in the hall, outside the only already open door.

"What did Daphne do now?" She was known to be _very _scary. It was feasible for the girl to make the younger student faint. Though pissing himself was a bit of an overreaction.

"I guess they wanted the favour of our new _prince_." The more intelligent of the three girls pointed to the slumped 5th year collapsed against one wall, and then to the piss covered 1st year..

"Pigs. But why haven't they... disturbed us yet?" Each girl had been awake all night; waiting to defend themselves. The odd noises had warned them not to come out until now, though.

They ventured to the common room.

"Again?" Was this all the rave or something? Another Slytherin was lying in urine, and one lying unconscious in a heap.

The others came into the common room, the first years looked shocked out of their skulls; except for one of them. A small blonde girl looked amused at the broken/humiliated forms lying on the floor. Two fat first years were looking around confused. What were they supposed to do? Their leader was missing.

"Um... why are there older students tied up outside our rooms?" Bulstrode questioned those in front of the group.

"Tied up?" A 4th year girl questioned, holding hands with her girlfriend as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with the unoccupied limb.

At this point the final of the third year boys and girls entered together. Daphne Greengrass gave no heed to the looks she received from many a girl, Tracy blushed slightly at the implication of their looks, and Harry just ignored those giving him odd looks. Had any of them made a comment about the girls, that'd have been a different matter entirely.

Unlike everyone else present, Harry was wide awake. He hadn't been woken by this, and was used to a nocturnal pattern.

"Yep!" Astoria proclaimed. "The dumb-asses are all bound by rope and stuck to a wall." The others were shocked at the audacity of the girl. Was she looking to be tortured. Only 3 understood why she was plenty brave enough to insult her 'betters'.

-(_)-

The three youngest professors were discussing their new students, a practise they engaged in more often than the students would realise. It ordinarily focussed on the third years, with some mention of any younger students that struck Aurora Sinistra as promising. Today, though, it was largely focused on a single student. And the work that he had handed in.

"It isn't possible." Bethesda Babbling commented.

"I agree. How much teaching must he have had?" Septima Vector nodded along.

"I told you he'd be good." Aurora Sinistra said smugly. Sinistra had seen his skill in her own class, and had been certain that Harry would have an affinity for Runes and Arithmancy, too.

While his Arithmancy wasn't quite as perfect; the theory being slightly oddly explained, he seemed to be as near an expert in Runes as was physically possible. Well, physically possible had one lived for several centuries devoted to the craft. Babbling had told them the story of him demonstrating his practical abilities. It was an amazing sight; more than she had thought possible. Runes ordinarily could only be used for warding and enchantments. He could, also, do that. But he'd demonstrated several abilities Babbling hadn't thought possible.

Carving an unfamiliar rune into a chair, the sitting apparatus had floated into the air. He carved '6ft' next to it, and that was how high it levitated. It hovered that far from the floor even now, as the trio could see from their positions in the classroom.

When she asked him to explain _how_ he did it, Harry had given her a blank look and shrugged. He had apparently memorized every theory that wizards had concerning runic magic, but just said that he knew what to do when she wanted to learn more about the subject. It frustrated the Professor, and she had studied the magic around the chair for the entire afternoon. No progress was made. Nor had these two been able to help.

That demonstration would be enough to pass the OWLs in both Arithmancy and Runes, as they were so closely intertwined, with flying colours; the ability to do it showed Harry _at least_ deserved an Outstanding OWL in the subject. Probably a NEWT too. And, if he made a high level ward; which they were sure he could based on the proficiency he had shown, he would secure an O in the 7th year exam as well. That was the ultimate goal of both lessons, after all.

"_This_ is unnaturally good." Babbling smiled as she said so, thinking of the future of and finding herself jealous of the teachers that may have been able to butter Harry Potter up, and snap him up as an apprentice after school. They could lay claim to whatever career he went onto in the future.

"It sucks that we have nothing to teach him, doesn't it?" The boy was a prodigy, after all. But having him in their classes would simply cheat him out of the lessons in Care of Magical Creatures, Divination or Muggle studies; whichever he chose to pursue.

"Yes, a real shame for you." Sinistra grinned at her friends. "My grades'll skyrocket soon enough."

**Hope you enjoyed, please Favourite/Follow/Review**


	3. Prologue Part 3

**I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Please Favourite/Follow/Review.**

Thomas Potter was unhappy. Very unhappy.

Nobody was giving him the respect he deserved.

Sure, a few of these people treated him with slight awe, since he had defeated the Dark Lord. But only a small number of the population was treating him correctly.

He believed himself to be king of the school, yet none of these fools understood that. None realised that he _would_ rule this place. Then he would show his upstart brother.

Even the professors had the nerve to compare the two. As tough Harry could possibly hope to match the superior abilities of Thomas. Even now, in his first year, he was on the Quiddich team.

But the _teachers_ actually acted like his pathetic brother was as skilled as Thomas. What in Merlin's name was wrong with them? Were they idiots?

Thomas Potter was the **Boy-who-lived**. His brother was **Nothing**.

That was the train of thought he had had as he approached the 4 girls that Harry apparently was close to that morning. That was what motivated him to tell them just how pathetic his brother was. That he wasn't worth their time. And that they would be better off to stick with Thomas himself.

And that was why he was now unconscious in the hospital wing.

In Madam Pomphrey's clinic; it did not matter that the arrogant boy was the boy-who-lived. In fact, she was upset to hear what he said about her favourite student. Not that that had anything to do with her prioritization. No, there just happened to be far more serious cases in her ward that she needed to take care of first.

Two Slytherin boys had injuries that suggested being stepped on by Hagrid, while another two had fainted from sheer panic.

The hexes on Thomas Potter were not serious. Painful: Sure. But not serious. And so she let him stew in his mistake.

It went against everything that the matron usually practised, but today she was glad to see these 4 in the wing. Usually, it would be a flood of crying 1st years and potentially a few traumatised 3rd year girls. She had been betting on the elder Greengrass and Davis, at the very least, coming in today. Poppy was far from stupid. She was certain that Harry had done something to these 4 because he had known that the boys had been intending to _take_ the two. Though she did wonder what exactly he had done to give these injuries. The shattered ribs required at least a few days in the wing, and the dizziness could have meant concussions. She wasn't inclined to let any of them out before the day after at the very least. Maybe the others would learn a lesson from this group's fate.

-(_)-

Hermione Granger was having the worst day in her young life.

She had been even before this; not only had she yet to find a single friend at her new school, but now the bullying had begun. Thomas Potter, and Ron Weasley had been mocking her after the Gryffindors' charms lesson, calling her a know-it-all and talking loudly about her having no friends. She knew she shouldn't have let it bother her so much. The pair of them were horrible people, and gradually wearing down the popularity that came with Thomas' title. People, apparently, had expected him to come and be a new version of the elder Potter. They had all quickly been disappointed by the arrogance the boy-who-lived displayed.

Even so, it reminded Hermione of the bullying she had endured to throughout her life so far; something that stung badly enough that she had retreated to the 4th floor bathrooms to cry her eyes out.

Now, that horror had escalated by far.

The 11 year old girl was frozen, staring up at the massive, lumbering grey figure that was swinging its club back and forth in a half-menacing half-moronic manner. What was she supposed to do? A first year knew next to nothing to combat the troll in front of the bookworm.

Hermione had a few ideas. Could she levitate the club away from its owner? Yes, but that wouldn't counter the fact that the towering humanoid was perfectly capable of killing her without his weapon. She assumed it was a he, anyway. She may well be wrong, but it struck her as more masculine than feminine. What on earth was a first year supposed to do against a full grown mountain troll?

The idiotic gigantic _thing _thudded along closer to the scared girl, and Hermione, in one of her less intelligent moments, retreated under a sink to escape, and began praying for somebody to save her. Her bravery, that brought her into Gryffindor, left her as she realised nobody knew she was here, and Hermione closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around her head in a feeble effort to protect herself from the troll's wrath.

As a result, the first year missed her rescue.

Harry had checked his map; the one he made simply to prove he could, after his cowardly professor had ran into the Great Hall, yelled about the troll, and promptly feinted. The troll was simply referred to as 'troll' on the map, an odd fact that he filed away for future reference, and he saw that it was not, in fact, in the dungeon. It was moving slowly through the 4th floor. Right towards a dot called Hermione Granger.

Harry moved very quickly through the school. Maybe not the _most_ Slytherin thing for him to do, but the Hat _had_ told him that he'd fit in any of the houses. He could be forgiven for acting in a Gryffindor-ish manner every once in a while. Ugh, Daphne was going to chew him out when she found out about this.

He stepped through the doorway, wand at the ready, and cast an _incendio_ at the troll in front of him. The thing's loincloth set alight in an instant, and it dropped it's club, batting stupidly at the burning cloth.

Harry stabbed his wand at the dropped club, and it morphed into a steel spike. A levitation charm, combined with an altered banishing one, quickly resulted in the grey skinned creature dropping to the floor with an echoing thud.

Hermione screamed. That thud equalled her doom, surely that must be the sound of her being struck by the club-of-doom.

"Please be quiet." A voice told her. "The danger has passed."

"Wh-what? When did you get here?" She turned a shocked gaze onto her saviour. "What one Earth happened to the troll?!"

"It got stabbed by a large, metal spike." He said, matter-of-factly, while giving her a look that screamed 'I thought you were smart'.

"I saw that! I mean how did it get stabbed by a metal spike?!"

"I transfigured the club into a spike, the charmed it to stab the troll."

Hermione sat there, gaping at the older boy like a goldfish, as the sound of footsteps reached her ears from outside of the bathroom.

"Mr Potter! What in Merlin's name..." Mcgonagall asked, shocked at the scene in front of her, before a hint of pride leaked into her features as she realised what one of her favourite students had done. Aside from the frown at his name, his response was cordial as he answered her incomplete question.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I heard mention from one of the first year girls that Hermione had been missing and that they had seen her heading here. I assumed that the troll would still be in the dungeon, and that it was more important for the teachers to head down in order to contain it. I though it would be best for me to fetch her myself." He spoke, looking down as if in shame.

"I don't see any reason for you to apologize, Potter." Severus Snape interjected, sharing his house member's dislike of the name. "You have saved this first year's life. I believe you deserve, shall we say 60 points, for helping a Lion, through no obligation of your own. You easily could have simply fled, and tried to find a teacher. By that time, the girl would have been killed."

"Agreed. Ms Granger, would you please tell us why you were up here?" McGonagall questioned, a rare kindness outweighing the reprimand that was still evident in her tone.

"I- Nothing, Professor. I was just being stupid." Her face reddened.

"My _brother_ looked rather guilty, Professor." Harry commented. Professor Mcgonagall frowned at the comment, and turned to the buck-toothed girl.

"I don't..." She relented after the stern expression of her head of house. "Yes, Professor. He and Ron were insulting me about having no friends."

"Thank you for telling me, Miss Granger. I'll make sure they receive the necessary punishment once we arrive back at Gryffindor tower."

-()-

Marcus Flint was not enjoying himself. His Quiddich team was mocking him very persistently about his fate the month before. Now, his bloody chaser was taking _all_ the attention.

"And Potter scores again." Jordan commented in his amplified voice, frustration obvious. "C'mon Fred, George! Hit him!"

"Jordan!"

"What do you think we're trying to do?!" One of the twins yelled back at their best friend.

"Sorry Professor!" Jordan replied to the earlier berating.

"Wood passes to Johnson, and To Spinnet, Damn it! Potter intercepts! Potter passes to Pucey, and Pucey back to Potter! Potter shoots! Slytherin score." He finished minus enthusiasm as his house team was losing rather badly.

The score was now 110-30 in favour of Slytherin. And that was with the efforts of the Weasley twins. The Gryffindor team as a whole was the best team in the school, Harry knew, but the elder Potter made all the difference.

"To Bell, who passes to Johnson, and to Spinnet! Back to Johnson, to Spinnet, to Bell! Oh! And Flint and Pucey both taken out by savage Bludgers from the Weasleys! Quaffle back to Bell! What are you doing, Katie?! Bell fumbles and drops the Quaffle. Potter catches! Potter scores!"

20 minutes later, the scores were up to 130-70 after Bletchley was thrown into his goals by a bludger from Fred, and Pucey had yet to recover from his earlier fall. The Slytherin team was massively disadvantaged. Especially since Flint was being deliberately annoying to Harry and trying to do everything himself.

-()-

Hermione Granger had no idea _why_ she felt the need to do this. Thomas was horrible to her, outweighing even his friend Ron in the insults he threw her way just because she outshined him in class. The boy didn't deserve her help, that was for sure. He wouldn't have gotten it, in fact, had Hermione not wanted to see Harry play.

But her parents had always raised her right. How on Earth could she let him get injured, or worse killed, just because she didn't like the boy? What if she got sent home after he fell from the broom? Surely they would shut the school down after a death of one of the students. Okay, maybe she had an _idea_ why she was saving the-boy-who-lived, but she was unsure if she really should.

And so she snuck through the stands, heading towards Snape, with the intent to stop his jinx before this escalated. The first year girl's fire spread quickly on the greasy robes, and Snape leapt to his feet.

-()-

"And what's this?! What's going on?!" Thomas Potter's broom tried to buck him off. Repeatedly. Harry watched for a little while, right until he realised he had no interest in the outcome. The Weasley twins were going to catch him should the annoyance fall. "Oh, come on! Potter scores!" He exclaimed as though it was a curse. A fire appeared in the teacher's stand, Thomas clambered back onto his broom and the match resumed.

As Katie Bell charged toward the Slytherin hoops again, Harry appeared next to her, trying to take the ball from her. Oddly, the chaser thought the best way to calm her nerves regarding him was to close her eyes. And so she did.

A bludger from one of the Slytherin caught the nose of her broom, and she lost all control, beginning a rapid descent.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed the seekers in a race.

Thomas Potter was going to make it. He was going to get the snitch. Of course he would, he had been trained since he was old enough to walk by James Potter. The best player Hogwarts had ever seen.

Higgs was bigger and slower, Thomas pulled away and stretched out his hand, about to grasp the golden ball... and a Quaffle clocked him on the head, knocking the seeker off course.

"And Potter saves Bell! Thank Merlin!" The girl would certainly have been badly injured. "Umm... is that a foul?" He questioned as the Quaffle caught the Gryffindor seeker. Higgs caught the snitch and Hooch blew her whistle in a long, sharp blast. "Slytherin wins!" About half the crowd cheered for the outcome.

Katie Bell was red, extremely so, as Harry and she landed. He had pulled her onto his broom and to stop the balance being thrown off, Harry had held her close. She wasn't complaining, but her curtain of hair didn't quite stop the crowd from seeing the obvious blush.

Harry dismounted the broom and asked Katie.

"Are you injured?" She was really red, and he wasn't sure what that meant.

"Uh n-no. I'm fine." She squeaked out.

"Good." Harry commented. "This has happened twice in two years." Harry cocked his head. "It seems like an odd coincidence, and you are a very capable flyer?"

"No!" She yelped in a panicked manner. Did he really think that? Harry chuckled at her embarrassment. "It was an accident!" She assumed he was accusing her of falling on purpose.

"Okay." He said, with a nod, as he turned and headed to the rest of his team, slapping Higgs on the back in congratulations and joining them in the subtle demonstrations of their glee at defeating Gryffindor.

As Katie headed back over to her own team, they all appeared glad that she had not been hurt. Excluding Thomas who looked angry at his defeat, and Wood who appeared conflicted. The captain had his gaze locked on the Slytherin Chaser. He was angry at him for costing Gryffindor the game, but glad he had been there to help the youngest chaser. The effect was humorous as both sides of his face twitched rapidly, unsure of what expression to settle upon.

"Who does that Bastard think he is?!" Thomas Potter began the anticipated rant.

-()()()-

The next morning, Harry was pleasantly surprised as a red letter burst into life in front of his brother. He and his ginger friend had, evidently, been pranked by the twins before breakfast as Thomas' skin was a bright pink and Ronald's was a bright orange.

"THOMAS LILIAN POTTER!" The-boy-who-lived had certainly gotten the short straw in regards to their middle names. Why they felt the need to use bother parents names, Harry did not know.

"HOW DARE YOU BULLY THAT POOR GIRL?! YOU NEARLY GOT HER KILLED! WE HAVE RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS! EVEN YOUR FATHER WASN'T THIS ARROGANT AT YOUR AGE! IF IT HAD NOT BEEN FOR YOUR BROTHER, YOU WOULD HAVE HER BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS, AND WE WOULD BE HORRIFIED WITH YOUR ACTIONS?!" Harry scowled at the reference to him. "IF THIS _EVER_ HAPPENS AGAIN, WE WILL BRING YOU _STRAIGHT BACK HOME! _YOUR FATHER IS HORRIFIED WITH YOUR BEHAVIOR, HE BLAMES HIMSELF FOR THE WAY YOU ARE ACTING, BE GLAD THAT 3 MONTHS OF DETENTION IS ALL YOU ARE GETTING!"

Other than the slight annoyance at his _mother_, Harry was pleased by that scene. His brother, on the other hand, was fuming.

-()()()-

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" Was the greeting that Harry received as he opened his door on the day after Christmas Eve.

"Bah!" He cursed as he jumped back, heart racing. "Merlin, I just woke up. Don't do that." He complained.

"Don't you ever wear a shirt, Harry?" Daphne asked, as coolly as could be expected. Once more, Harry had no idea the effect that he had on the girls as he stood there in only a pair of sweatpants.

"Not while I'm sleeping." Harry responded, stepping away from the door. "Please, come in." Obviously, that was what they wanted, and Harry did not feel the need to deny them.

The girls, yet again, were shocked by the changes and moderations Harry had made to his room. It was about half the size of either house's common room; showing his abilities in charms. A large bed was resting against the far wall, a desk on another and a large chest to the side of that. He also had a couch large enough to seat 5 people comfortably, and a television that he had carved runes into the side of, allowing it to work perfectly even in the magic rich environment of Hogwarts.

"So, how did you all meet up before 7am?" He checked the clock, before asking, looking particularly at the two Ravenclaws.

"We arranged it yesterday." Tracy answered with a smile. "We agreed that it'd be best to surprise you to exchange gifts, and whe better to surprise you than when you're asleep?!"

"I'd rather you did it during the day, personally," Harry remarked. "But that's mainly 'cause I only fell asleep a couple of hours ago."

"Staying up so late isn't healthy, Harry." Caroline lightly berated.

"It's fine when you don't get woken up at 7 in the morning. Cats are quite often nocturnal." Harry corrected, as he sat down on the edge of his bed. "Is exchanging gifts really exciting enough to need to do it at this ungodly hour?"

"Of course! Just because you're a Grinch doesn't mean that the rest of us have to be!" Jasmine replied to this one. So many people in the conversation was difficult for Harry to deal with so early in the morning. "Christmas is fun!"

"I'm not a Grinch, I just don't understand Christmas. It holds no significance to me."

-_-_-()()-_-_-

'Moron.' Harry commented, silently. The three of these firsties were actually dumb enough to come down here on their own. Against a Professor, even one who was as pathetic as Quirrell, they stood _no_ chance. Not to mention the fact that Harry was sure they thought Snape had been the teacher responsible. If Snape had wanted them dead, a simple _Sectumsempra_ would more than likely deal with the trio in a single blow. Now, Thomas Potter was down here on his own.

Luckily, Harry had overheard them. Now, he was hidden under the cloak he had enchanted as an invisibility covering. Unluckily, Harry wasn't confident that he'd beat the Death Eater in front of him in this form. The cat would be capable if he had the element of surprise, but in the time it took to change, Harry would be hit with the killing curse. He wasn't going to die for his arrogant younger sibling. Nor to protect the fake stone. Why would the Flamels let Dumbledore put the real on in his little trap/test?

Oh. Looked like his brother was saved, then. Harry saw the conversation end as Quirrell started speaking to himself. The defence Professor raised his hands and began removing the turban from his head. Harry's trap was triggered.

As Quirrell had walked through the doorway, a series of runes had transferred onto his person, complete with a trigger of removing his head gear.

The first activated as a disturbing face was revealed. The material twisted, and wrapped around it's master's throat. The bald man scratched wildly at the cloth, and the other end of the turban curled around his wrists, trapping them and preventing any other action from the limbs.

"What are you doing, you little- ARGH!" He was cut off by his throat constricting further, before the robes he was wearing jumped up, curling around his head and blocking his view. The collar tightened, especially.

The collar started burning, and set itself on fire, unnaturally hot. The skin and flesh melted, and his throat was damaged irreparably. He began making strangling noises, before the robe fell back down, and the turban fell to the floor along with it.

Quirrell's face turned purple, and he dropped to his knees, hands clawing at his throat as he struggled to breath. Harry vanished through the nearest wall, no longer caring, as Thomas Potter watched one of his teachers die, utterly confused.

It irritated Harry greatly that the boy-who-lived later took credit for saving the 'precious artefact', and then was awarded by the headmaster just enough points to rob Slytherin of their favouritism; had Harry known that would happen, he'd of recorded the event, and stopped the little bugger from taking credit for his work. Of course, he couldn't of taken credit himself; Harry _was_ popular, of course, but even so he was still a Slytherin. A _Slytherin _killing a Professor, even one with Voldemort stuck in the back of his head would, instantly, be labelled as _evil_. Unlike the newly crowned golden boy of Gryffindor.

The applause was annoying as hell. At least when Ravenclaw beat them, they were gracious about it.

-()()-

"Harry, wake up. We're at the station." Tracy shook her friend lightly, watching unsurprised as his eyes shot open, and snapped onto her own.

5 more minutes." He closed his eyes again, after finding no threat.

"Potter." Daphne poked him in the side. "Get up."

"No." He groaned, leaning further into the wall. He liked sleep.

Jasmine, surprisingly, jabbed Harry in the stomach, and the teen shot up with a surprised grunt. The girls seized his arms to prevent him from floppin back onto the bench, and Harry relented.

"Fine, fine..."He stood and stretched, before making to wallk out of the cabin. "What are you waiting for?" The girls had not moved.

"Potter!" Daphne barked, just as Harry was about to leave. The ebony haired boy turned and found her stood there, arms crossed and tapping her foot.

"Trunks?" He asked. It was his own fault, for retrieving them every year hence. Plus, he could lighten them and shrink them legally; it made sense for him to fetch them.

"Trunks." Daphne confirmed. Her male friend easily removed them for the 4 girls, and tapped each, shrinking and lightening each without any of the pesky repercussions that the others would get from using magic outside of school, due to the runes he had drawn on the side of the leather of each.

"Y' don't have to be so rude about it." Harry remarked, as he walked out of the room again; not upset, just sleepy and in no mood to be barked at.

-()-

Adelaide Greengrass watched her self proclaimed son's retreating figure with a sad frown. Why he had to leave for half of each summer, she didn't quite understand, but at least she was certain that he'd be safe. Her girls were reacting in a similar way, though each of them had a slight glare marring their pretty features as they were angry with each other.

It was easy for Lady Greengrass to see why they were upset. It'd be difficult for her husband, sure, but she saw the competitive expression that Caroline, Tracy and Daphne shared as Jasmine kissed Harry on the cheek. Then, the four repeated her actions, each lingering slightly, and shot a scowl at their female friend. The start of a war between them was inevitable, Adelaide believed, even if Harry was wholly unaware of their crushes on him.

-(_)-(_)-

'It's strange for my brother to be so different from me. How can we be related yet share so few personality traits?' Yet again, Harry's shameful little brother had rushed into the danger head along. Now, how was he going to avoid having the little shit take credit for the work he was about to do?

A truth rune? That'd work, he supposed. And if Harry's little brother happened to get in trouble because he happened to blurt out something that was worthy of punishment, all the better.

Harry felt his body shift into another form just as he hissed _"Open"_ at the doorway in Parseltongue, following Thomas' path into the chamber of secrets. The dank smell hit him in the damp hall and Harry cringed, his heightened senses made him more susceptible to the effects this had. As the segment of wall moved apart, Harry rushed through, taking the most recently developed animal he could use. A tiny bird, one that he himself knew to be the Peregrine Falcon, flew unnoticed into the air and observed the scene below, circling the statue and people beneath.

Harry watched as Thomas talked to the odd person with him. He was wearing a Slytherin uniform, but Harry definitely did not recognise the boy. In fact, he was shimmering slightly. Not a ghost, obviously, but perhaps something similar. The diary lying discarded on the floor certainly seemed significant to the Animagus. But his attention was quickly removed from the object when he heard the stranger hiss to the massive statue of Salazar Slytherin.

"_Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the four!"_

The mouth did, indeed, open. But no words escaped the cavern. In fact, what came out shouldn't have surprised Harry. A massive serpent slithered out of who-knows-where, and obeyed the command to attack that came forth from 'Tom Riddle'.

'Well, at least Thomas isn't a complete moron.' Harry thought as he scampered away from the Basilisk. Harry briefly contemplated letting his brother in blood just die, but decided he would have felt bad for leaving the little Weasley girl down here.

The Peregrine Falcon swooped downwards, arching toward the massive beast at 200mph, distracting the snake.

"Hah!" The young Voldemort laughed at the feeble attempt. "What do you think that such a minuscule creature could do to the king of snakes?!"

He was right in that assessment. The bird barely weighed 2lbs, it certainly wasn't built for this type of conflict. Luckily, that hadn't been the plan Harry had.

"Ignore the bird, focus on the boy! The boy is all that matters!" Riddle screamed at the snake. Apparently forgetting Parseltongue in his rush. As he finished, the young version of the Dark Lord watched as the bird turned in mid air, tucking it's wings into an even faster dive, approaching the 300mph mark. The teenager smirked at the idiocy.

That smirk vanished as the bird's body shifted. The black feathers became just as dark fur, and the body grew unreasonably. From 23 inches to 8ft. The prehistoric cat plummeted toward Slytherin's monster at the massive speed ad slammed into the snake. The thing weighed 800 odd pounds. A weight that was very useful when it crashed into the other predator in the room.

The snake was thrown off balance, with a very large cat latched onto it's face, long canines digging behind a vulnerable scale in the snake's forehead. With a frustrated growl, Harry managed to tear said scale loose. He bit into the vulnerable spot, and ripped it apart. The flesh tore from the skull underneath, and exposed the bone.

Pondering how he was to go about getting through the hard material; he couldn't get the angle to pierce it properly, after all, Harry spotted a glint of silver in a ratty, worn out hat.

Discounting the fact that he didn't know _how_ the sword got there, the feline leapt, with the grace you would expect from a cat, over to the sorting hat, and shifted form again.

His mass decreased significantly, to less than 200lbs, but his body widened greatly, his length shortened to about 4ft, and his height increased slightly to 6ft 6. The wingspan of the Argentavis was truly amazing at 23 feet. Scooping up the sword of Gryffindor, the massive bird flew toward the snake, and changed to the tall-ish human form of Harry Potter, gripping the blade in his hands. With a swift motion, Harry plunged the goblin-made blade into the serpent's brain.

Thomas Potter wondered who this was; he couldn't see any real features other than the unsurprising obsidian hair. He hopped back, using the transferred grace from his forms, and flipped over, landing, once more, as the sabre-tooth black cat.

The snake flailed briefly, before it slowed, dropped heavily, and died. Turning, Harry ran at his brother, sheathed his claws, and batted him over the head. As tempting as it was to tear his throat out, that wouldn't be a good idea.

Turning back, Harry stood, stretching as he did so, and faced Tom Riddle.

"Voldemort?" Harry wondered. That's what it sounded like to him, and it would make sense for Voldemort to be the heir of Slytherin, from what Harry understood.

"I'm Lord Voldemort as he was at 16, yes." Riddle replied as Harry moved over toward the corpse of the Basilisk. He was interested in the origins of the teen that had put on such a show.

"Hm. Why Ginny Weasley? Could you not have bewitched an older, powerful student?" He shrugged at as he arched an eyebrow. "She's only twelve. Her core's nothing special."

"I would be inclined to agree with you. But one of my _followers_ gave her the diary. Not on my orders, mind you." He growled out. "What are you doing." Harry wrenched a tooth out of the snake's mouth. Harry moved over to the diary quickly. "Wait!"

"She deserves life more than you do. Also, I'm not a fan of bigoted ideals." He knelt next to the diary and plunged the fang into the black cover. The boy, as well as the diary, screamed, and ink spurted from the torn pages.

"Hmm." Harry turned to the unconscious figures in the chamber. "Now how do I get you two out of here?"

-()-

It was time for the OWLs, and Harry was confident. Not due to arrogance, but due to indifference. He saw no reason to be overly concerned with the levels that he was rewarded by a Ministry official that he would never meet, and disliked the idea of getting stressed about his future anyway; he did not understand the people around him, cramming desperately with looks of anguish and, in the case of a few Ravenclaws, openly weeping.

Harry was prepared for the tests, he supposed that he was also smarter, and far better under pressure, than most of the students around him. That was the answer he had given when a few of his year mates had demanded to know why he was so calm. They had looked angry at that, for some reason.

Now, he was leant against a wall in the Entrance Hall waiting to be called in for a practical demonstration of Runes; he had given up the lessons after finding tuem insanely easy, but was not allowed to take the exams any earlier than this. He could take the runes and Arithmancy NEWT later in the summer, though, and that was something to be grateful for getting out of the way. He hoped it wasn't true that the practical only consisted of drawing and activating a single, low level ward or he'd end up showing everyone up.

As his name was called, Harry shrugged the thought away. He wasn't going to hinder himself, after all, and maybe the examiner would e somehow entertained by the demonstration from a higher-level teen.

-()-

James Potter looked far more sullen than he ever had in Sirius Black's memory. He wished he could be surprised about that reaction, but he was well aware of the cause. The two aurors were stationed at Hogwarts this year, in addition to the dementors released to prevent the rat and the psycho from infiltrating the grounds.

Pettigrew had turned into a rat in a fit of panic, and, in what could be considered a fit of genius from one so intellectually challenged, thought to free Bellatrix, figuring having her release on his record would help him to gain favour when, and if, he found his master.

It was theorised that they would try to take revenge on Thomas, and therefore the highest protection was given to their saviour.

But Thomas was not why the Lord Black's best friend was upset. No, that was his eldest. The OWL year student had ignored Lord Potter throughout the year. Not once responding to the calls of James. Nor Sirius, for that matter. Even Remus, who was one of the boy's teachers, was barely given the time of day.

However, that mattered little at the moment, since the two captain aurors had just checked the map, and found, to their horror, that Thomas and friends were fleeing for their lives.

Not from the Death Eaters, no. They were running from Remus.

"Moony! Stop!" James screamed at his childhood friend. Actually, that was quite effective. Not in that it stopped the werewolf, but in that it drew the attention from the fleeing trio and onto the pair of Animaguses.

"Get ready, James." The messy haired man nodded, and the two changed forms. They could match the wolf, most likely beat it, when put together. But they had to do that all while stopping it from getting any of the wizarding children. They were at a serious disadvantage.

And that disadvantage was why James was injured by their changed friend. The wolf bit down on his side as the Animagus threw himself in front of his idiot son.

Thomas Potter had done his best to 'help' the two by rushing back and attacking the werewolf. This kid really annoyed Sirius, but he had no choice in the matter as he attacked his friend wildly, trying desperately, and succeeding, to get his attention back onto the perceived threat.

The wolf pursued the dog through the grounds; obviously wanting desperately to kill the nuisance. Sirius Black now knew that he was screwed.

Completely and utterly screwed.

He led the werewolf into the woods; the most sensible idea he could come up with, to try to find something else for it to fight. He wasn't expecting the answer to his prayers to come sprinting out of the forest at him and his pursuer.

It was another wolf. Some kind of wolf, anyway.

Remus was massive compared to an average wolf, the same as next to every werewolf. In fact, Sirius was sure that Remus was large for a werewolf. But this wolf was bigger.

Definitely bigger.

And scarier.

The moonlight highlighted the raven furred wolf as it charged toward the dog-wolf pair, and Sirius leapt out of it's path, catching a glimpse of it colliding with the werewolf in front. The creature seemed just about fully grown, though maybe it would fill out in the shoulders some more, but the not quite adult creature was clearly winning the brawl. It and Remus both reared back onto their hind legs and tore at each other, but the larger wolf did much more damage as his razor sharp claws tore chunks from the other's body.

With a pathetic whimper, Moony turned and fled, instincts outweighing bloodlust as he headed into the forest at a quick pace.

The mystery wolf turned to face the downed dog that was still, barely, conscious, and let out a rumbling growl. Sirius scrambled to his feet, favouring his right side as his left had been torn into slightly in the first bout against Remus, and further aggravated by the running.

Grey eyes locked onto emerald, and the wolf turned, dismissively, and jogged into the forest.

-()()-

"James! I'm _telling _you, it was Lily! Lily saved me!"

"Padfoot, I've said before, Lily's form is a doe. It's definitely _not_ a, in your words, _big ass wolf_!"

"It's possible to have more than one form, James! All the books say that!"

"And it's incredibly rare for someone to have more than one! They say that, too! Not to mention Lily discovering one just out of school, and the other _now_!" James Potter shook his head. "Besides, you said that the wolf was _black_. Lily's hair is _red_!"

This entire conversation took place in hushed, but urgent, tones at the head table. Luckily, the roar of conversation had hidden it from everyone but the headmaster sat next to Sirius, as a way to show the importance of the security the ministry provided.

Sirius' eyes drifted over the students, from Gryffindor, over the other houses, to Slytherin. There, he happened to meet the eyes of another emerald-eyed Potter, as opposed to the hazel both other males of the family had.

"Holy shit! It was Harry!" Sirius exclaimed, turning to his childhood friend with shock written on his features. That shock was quickly copied onto James' face, as the headmaster looked on with a knowing twinkle. Then, James grinned widely.

"Takin' after his old man!"

"Don't forget his Godfather, Prongs! His form's more similar to mine, after all!"

"Yeah." James snorted. "Just a better version!"

"Hey!" Sirius barked indignantly. "Snuffles is a chick magnet! His one, we need a name for him, by the way, would just scare them all off!"

"Whatever you say, Padfoot, whatever you say..."

The headmaster chuckled, as he wondered just what forms Harry Potter had. None were easy for him to recognise so far. Well, the small, and very speedy, falcon was easy enough, but none of the others had been turned up in his enquiries so far. Just how strong was the popular Slytherin, anyway? Dumbledore's eyes twinkled curiously.

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	4. Quiddich World Cup

**Here's an update, I was glad to receive so many follows and favourites, and the reviews too.**

**Just one thing; I'm happy to receive criticism, but please phrase it in a constructive way.**

**The first 3 chapters were basically just a prologue, so I've changed their names to reflect that.**

**People brought up Hermione being in the golden-trio; I've added to the Quidditch scene in the last chapter to explain.**

**I'll be using some flashbacks in later chapters, too, in order to give more detail to the story. I just wanted to get to the main body sooner rather than later.**

**I've used a couple of clichés in this chapter, sorry if that annoys anybody. It shouldn't take anything away from the chapter, the clichés, I believe, are clichés 'cause they're entertaining and useful.**

**I own nothing you recognise. I hope you enjoy**

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_The ground shook as a muggle group, sitting in a jeep in the middle of the African plains, heard their loocal tour guide let out a panicked yell, and called them to "Buckle your seatbelts!" as he stepped on the gas, driving away as fast as the heavy car could take them._

"_Mommy, what's going on?" A little girl questioned, noticing the panic._

_The girl's mother was about to answer that she wasn't sure, but that they were safe, when she was cut off before she began._

"_Elephants!" The grey skinned mammals were in a stampede, running for their lives from _something_, and the group quickly became unsettled by the implication. What the hell were they running from?_

_A chilling howl rung across the plains, and the driver/tour guide began jabbering away into his hand held radio; the word that stood out, was "Ilimu"._

_The driver did not slow until they reached civilisation. Something had him terrified._

-()()()()()-

The girls clapped politely along with the crowd, as the group was sat in one of the top boxes; along with some important Bulgarian ministry workers and several enthusiastic Irishmen.

A 16 year old Harry Potter watched, with a cautious gaze, in case a fight broke out between the opposing Quidditch fans. The glares that were being shot at the the Irish by the Bulgarians were not inspiring confidence in him that they'd get out of this box without being obstructed by a vicious brawl.

The elder Greengrasses ushered the 4 out, just as the first punch was thrown, and Harry chuckled at the indignant yell, followed by a loud grunt of someone being hit. He stretched, from the lengthy time sitting motionless, and yawned widely.

As they walked down the stairs, and out of the stadium, the celebrations had, remarkably, already begun. The Irish were cheering, singing and, living up to their stereotype, getting as drunk as a cheerful crowd of skunks.

Not one of the Greengrass group was invested in the outcome, they were here because Andrew had been gifted with the seats, and it was an event worth seeing. Once every 4 years was certainly a worthwhile phenomenon after all; and the family and the surrogate children _were_ fond of Quidditch in general.

They entered the tent that was shared between the entire group, and sat down to discuss the match, far more reserved than the red headed family that was, at the same time, sitting down in a wave of chaos, with everyone chattering over each other as the youngest male revered Krum.

-)(_)(-

Later on that night, Harry Potter woke with a start, as he heard panicked screams. His superior senses catching them before anyone else in the tent.

"Andrew!" He yelled out as he rushed into the living area, dressed only in silk pyjama bottoms and a dragon hide wand-holster.

7 sleepy people emerged as his voice rang through the tent.

"Harry? What is it?" Andrew asked his charge. He had woken more fully than the others by this point, knowing that Harry must have a good reason for calling for him in the middle of the night.

"People are screaming."

"Are you sure it's not just a celebration?"

"Certain. They're terrified." He grunted in response. There was no doubt about the familiar noises and what they meant.

"Okay. Take the girls and head for the woods." His charge gritted his teeth at that. "We'll," He gestured to himself and his wife, "Go give any assistance that they need." His wife nodded and went about dressing properly for what was to come.

"You _know_ I can help, Andrew."

"You're under-age, Harry. I need you to take the girls, and get them to safety." He said, sternly. After a brief staring contest, Harry relented and turned to the girls.

"C'mon. We need to go, preferably before they get here." He would gladly fight himself, but Harry would be damned if he'd let one of them get hurt because of his own bloodlust. "You all got your wands?"

"Yes." Was chorused 5 times, each had had that necessity drilled into their heads over the years, Andrew having taught them never to go anywhere without the weapon of choice for wizards, and Harry nodded; taking charge of their little group.

"Let's get going then; leave anything else." Daphne took Astoria's hand as they headed to the exit. "Shit!" Harry cursed suddenly. "Andrew, Adelaide, they're in the camp site!" He called to the two in their bedrooms.

Harry glanced around the room, and smiled as he saw the deck of cards he had been... editing the night before sat on a table near the tent-flap. He grabbed them, undid the rubbed band around them, and moved to the exit again.

"Get going! Do not stop, you here me?" Lord Greengrass called back. There were _very_ few people Harry would take an order from; but Andrew had more of his respect than just about anybody else. Meaning he'd do his best to obey.

"Sure." Harry confirmed, fully intending to do as he was told.

The 6 under-age magical folk exited the tent quickly, and set off through the tents, ignoring the flashes of light in the distance as they did so. As they ran through, they realised just how far the tent was from the woodland, and fear crept up on a few of them. Well, on 5 of them.

They moved through a dense grouping of tents, Harry leading, and did what they could to maintain their speed as they could as they were slightly obstructed. As they emerged, the group heard a trio of dlurred shouts directed at them.

"Hey, prrretty llittle things! Stop rrr-right the-re!"

"Llook at thhhose swweet lookkin' gals!"

"We're gonnnna hhave sso-me fun!"

The group turned and saw 3 cloaked figures, with white Death Eater masks showing just barely.

All three were slightly slurred from alcohol, but the three still had the ability to cast a _reducto _at the ground in front of the 6.

"You..." He slurred, gesturing at Harry. "Get lost, we don't swing that way." The other two had decided to pre-emptively get undressed, apparently, as they were struggling to remove their robes while still wearing the masks. Morons.

"Disgusting." Harry stated, in a bored tone that barely covered the hate he felt. "If I felt inclined, I would simply inform you that 2 of these girls are daughters of a noble house, the other 3 are protected by it, and all 5 have another's heir that pledges their protection, as well. I do not feel inclined to let you go, though. If you hold still, this will be quicker. Please don't hold still." The three seemed to have trouble managing to understand what he was saying, but the two with their heads covered by cloaks stopped struggling, comprehending that this would likely end badly. If they were caught, they'd be sent to Askaban for sure.

Harry drew the deck of playing cards and picked the three from the top. He threw the first at the foremost Death Eater, who was struggling to find a response to the insults, and had begun to raise his wand in response. The card connected to the man's shoulder, and a rune glowed sapphire on the face of the paper.

The man let out a shriek of pain as an invisible sword sliced through his upper arm, and the limb fell twitching to the ground. He tilted his head as though staring at the now disconnected appendage, and promptly passed out.

The next man was struck in the chest by the card Harry tossed at him, and felt a dozen bludgers slam into his midsection, before he was sent into unconsciousness along with his buddy. The last card seemed to miss, striking the ground at the remaining Death Eater's feet instead. Then, however, an earth-made chain extended from the ground, and wrapped quickly around his midsection, crushing his ribs and maintaining it's grip as the man fell, twitching, to the ground. Harry waited, but the Death Eaters did not stand again.

"C'mon." Harry started off again, and the girls followed him with slightly shocked, though ultimately satisfied, expressions on their faces. Harry gave no reaction to indicate he had just killed, or most likely killed, three men.

Harry led the group once again, this time with a single card ready in his hands as he anticipated another fight coming soon. An unfounded instinct, but one that he trusted after years of relying on it. As it turns out, he was correct.

The group was nearing their goal, the wooded area, when they heard a duo of pain-filled, female, screams and a yell of anger. The 6 rounded a tent and entered into a clearing, and Harry turned as he heard Caroline murmer.

"Fleur... Gabby..."

In front of them, was a group of 13 Death Eaters, each with their wands drawn and once more in varying states of dress, surrounding a trio of girls, while a pair of them was restraining a man who was in a partial body bind, with the spell being applied repeatedly in order to avoid him escaping, at the same time. Harry felt his magic flare as he saw the fact that the girls had been seemingly silenced, and a silver haired girl was curled around what seemed to be her little sister, based on the resemblance, writhing in agony as a masked man held her under the Cruciatus curse. The teenage girl's mother was in a similar situation off to the side, trying to throw the curse off in order to help her daughters.

Harry reacted after he saw another, very nearly naked, 'Eater send a weak cutting charm at the elder sister, tearing her clothes off as he did so, and begin an approach to her.

"I'm 'aving 'er first. You can take ze ozzers if you want, just keep Delacour facing zees way. I want 'im to _watch_."The man said in heavily accented English, revealing that he was from France; explaining that he likely had a grudge with the family personally.

The crowd did not notice the six watching, as Harry turned to the others, locking eyes with Caroline, who gave a him pleading look to help her friends. The Redhead had often spent time in France with this family, who had been old friends of her parents before their untimely deaths. By happen-stance she had found them in pain, and definitely did not want to abandon them now.

"Please can we help them?" Caroline murmured to Harry. The boy glanced at Astoria, and frowned slightly.

"Of course. Jasmine? Tracy?"

"Yeah?"

"Please take Astoria and take shelter behind the tents for a moment." Harry requested. Astoria because she was significantly younger, and would just get hurt. The other two because they were less inclined to use curses, either out of being suited to charms or out of being something of a pacifist.

The two reluctantly agreed, understanding the logic, and Harry darted out, getting a better shot at the crowd of Death Eaters while Daphne and Caroline prepared to hit them from the other side as soon as Harry needed help. Of course, that was assuming that he would have needed that help. Something that was rendered moot as he saw another Death Eater approach the youngest female.

This one, too, cast a cutting hex at the clothing of the 8 year old girl, and the clothes fell apart as he began to remove his own down to a apir of stained boxers. Bending over, grabbing at Gabrielle and clawing at the little girl's underwear, he pulled down his own.

"_Concuss!"_ Harry roared, stabbing his wand in a fierce motion toward the two would-be-rapists.

A cone of energy distorted the air in front of Harry Potter, and slammed into the standing Death Eaters fiercely, sending them all flying with the concussive force. Luckily, the floored family was unaffected by the chest-level spell, and instead were just surprised by the sailing Death Eaters passing over their heads.

The curse was centred on the peadophile Death-Eater, and Harry didn't flinch as the man's skeleton gave way, and he hit the ground like a waterbed, ripples going through his unsupported body.

Harry sent stunner after stunner at them, each rendering one unconscious as he did. This, however, did little in the way of intimidation, as those that had been knocked down hopped back up and began throwing more dangerous curses back at him.

He stepped to the side as a particularly nasty, venomous purple spell shot towards his chest, being one of the first to be on target; the wizards were rather bad shots in their inebriated states, after all. The spell splashed against a tent and the area around it began blackening quickly, before the entire structure dissolved into dust. Harry snarled, annoyed with himself for using such meagre attacks, and changed tact.

Transfiguring a wall from the Earth in front of him, Harry began blasting chunks of the earth at his enemies, knocking them out, and potentially injuring them seriously, as he did so.

Reparing the wall, and repeating the process, he charmed the debris to pursue the 'Eaters, in a similar manner to the bludger that had followed his brother in Harry's 4th year. The chunks flew at the group, and the drunkards did not think to use their magic to eliminate the threat, which would have been very easy for even the least skilled fully grown wizard.

Panicking at the projectiles' persistence and the defence their enemy had acquired, the drunk men scooped up their comrades, other than the dead man, and fled; ducking and zigzagging away from the flying chunks of earth. Harry would have pursued the cowards, had the family not needed help as soon as possible. While he had never been hit with the curse himself, he was told that it could drive even the best of wizards insane with prolonged exposure. He jogged over to the whimpering and twitching family, taking just a moment to remove the body-bind from the man before he reached the twitching girl in the throes of post-cruitiatus spasms, who appeared to be the same age as he and the others.

Harry glanced at the man, and found him thankfully occupied with his youngest. This meant he could get started on healing her, and Harry cut the edge of his thumb on the sharp canines in his mouth. Quickly, he painted a couple of runes on the girl's arm to begin healing her, and relieving her of the pain. Fleur's eyes fluttered shut as the agony began to come to an end. Emeralds the last thing she saw before she succumbed to sleep.

Sebastian Delacour may, or may not, have seen this but let it go after seeing his daughter sigh, relieved, after the runes were drawn on her skin. He turned to his family's rescuer, and was surprised to find that he was the age of Fleur, and his eldest was still in school!

"Zank you." The French ministry worker replied, his voice strained and shaking slightly from anger. The man, remarkably, pulled himself together almost instantaneously, showing serious training. The 'Eaters must have caught him off guard.

"Do you think we should move? They may bring others back here." Harry questioned the older man.

"You are right. Do you know where we will be safe?"

"We were told that we aught to be safe in the woods."

"We?"

"Girls?" Harry called out in answer, and Caroline and Daphne, along with the others, who they had retrieved, emerged.

"Caroline?!" The shocked Franchman exclaimed.

"Hi, Mr Delacour. Are they alright?" She asked, forgoing a rely and pointing to the figures of Fleur, who was unconscious, and Gabrielle, who was curled into a ball, trying to escape the cold.

Tracy approached the small girl, and conjured a jacket for her, wrapping it around her small shoulders while soothingly whispering.

"Hey, sweetie. Don't worry; you're fine. The bad men are gone." The 8 year old latched onto the older English girl, and began babbling in French.

"Daph? What's she saying?" Tracy asked her best friend.

"She's thanking you over and over again." The blonde smirked at her friend. "Apparently she mistook you for Harry."

"What?! I don't look like Harry!" Tracy cried out, indignant.

"She's in shock, Trace." Harry interjected. "Everyone knows that you're a girl." He said, cutting off any teasing. Then, he spoke to the man that he had rescued.

"Okay, Sir, how are we going to do this?" Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the obvious solution to the problem, then sighed. He supposed that the boy had proven himself to be at least somewhat trustworthy. He _had_ saved his family from a horrid fate, after all.

"Can you, Tracy, was it? Yes, can you take my youngest, please? Since she's already holding onto you, and all." He received a nod on return. "Caroline, can you give me a 'and with Appolline?" The Frenchman grimaced as he looked at his leg. "Zey 'it me with a cutting curse, I doubt I can take 'er weight with z_is_." He turned a mild glare on the shirtless boy in front of him, he wasn't in the mood to expect him to treat Fleur with care. "You look like you can carry my elder daughter, so I'm _trusting_ you to do so."

"Okay." Harry said, shrugging. He walked over to Fleur's prone form and conjured a blanket, that he then used to preserve her modesty as he scooped her up with ease. "Lead the way." He nodded to the three without burdens, and they headed on, avoiding attention as much as they could, given that one of their number had now attracted attention from 20 odd Death Eaters.

The rest of their night was largely uneventful, other than the inevitable conversation that Harry and the male Delacour had when the group had reached safety.

"So... Why were they attacking you?" Harry asked after a lengthy silence. "At least the one seemed to be from France."

"I know." Sebastian sighed. "My wife," He looked fondly upon the unconscious silver-blonde woman; who had fallen unconscious along with Fleur. "She's a Veela; as you may 'ave noticed. Zey aren't happy zat we are making strides toward giving 'er people equal rights." At this, Daphne snorted, her mask absent tonight in wake of the stressful situations of tonight.

"Equal rights as _women_, you mean. That is far from _equal _rights." Sebastian smiled sadly. The girl had a valid point; females were treated as property in the wizarding world.

"Yes, you're right, Meess Greengrass. But Veela are treated as sub-human. Women are treated far better zan zose zat ze bigots in government refer to as 'alf-breeds. My wife eez an apt example of why she and 'er people are ze same as wizards."

"And the French attackers were the bigots?" Harry asked. The idea that they had contacts abroad was worrying.

"Something like zat, yes." Sebastian scowled. "Zey were aiming to 'make an example' out of uz."

"The Delacours are a noble family in France." Caroline explained. "They hold seats on their version of the Wizengamot and sell wine in both the muggle, and the wizarding, worlds."

"Right. Any idea who that guy was?" Harry queried of Sebastian.

"Non. I 'ave made enemies of a lot of ze racists." Lord Delacour shook his head, frowning at the thought. "I will need to talk to Fleur about ze tournament. Zis will not 'elp 'er warm up to me again." He added, mostly to himself.

"Alright, then. I'm going to check the area." Harry said, as he eyed the treeline uneasily. A second later, he vanished into the shadows and began a search for any other Death Eaters.

"Fleur's upset with you?" Caroline questioned. "Why is that?"

"She 'as not mentioned to you?"

"We haven't written to each other for a few weeks." Caroline explained.

"Ah, I am sure she will not mind my telling you, then." His shoulders slumped a little at this, and he switched to French in an effort to avoid being overheard. _"The boy-who-lived. Apparently my father and his grandfather created a contract for the eldest female Delacour and the male Potter heir to be married. There was no female in my generation, so it has passed to the next."_ Sebastian scowled at the thought. _"The boy has insisted that he wants to 'have a Veela'. His knowing about the contract activated it, unfortunately."_

"_Why is it for Thomas, then?"_ Caroline queried, confused.

"_What do you mean? He's the Potter son and heir."_

"_No he's not. At least, not technically."_

"_Is he not the only Potter child?" _Sebastian was confused; the Potters had come to several French engagements, never had they brought another child with them.

"_No. Although it isn't surprising that the people in France are under that impression. The Potter heir ran away as a child; due to neglect."_ At this point, Caroline and Daphne were scowling visibly, the latter having been able to follow the conversation. Harry likely would have been less than happy, too, had he not been checking the surrounding area for danger.

"_Really? Do you know this heir?"_

"_You could say that, yes."_

"_Do you believe he is a better fit for Fleur?"_

"_Definitely, yes." _Caroline replied, running a hand over her face, and pointedly ignoring Daphne's glare.

"_How are you so sure?"_

"_Well, I know him as well as anybody does, and I am well aware of what Fleur's ideal man would be." _She gave a slightly amused look. _"And his saving her life, and her mother, father and sister would definitely not hurt."_

"_Saving her?... Wait, your shirtless friend?!"_

"_That's not necessarily how I would describe him, but yes; Harry is the elder Potter."_ Caroline shrugged, and her tone changed to one of slight hope. _"Besides, I doubt he'll be in any rush to wed."_ Sebastian caught onto the slight clues.

"_Hang on... If this will cause tension between the two of you; you really should talk to Fleur about this entire situation."_

"_I'll discuss it with the others; I'm sure we will get around to talking to Fleur about Harry." _

Daphne's thoughts were furious. Yet another girl was in the running. And this bitch had a magical contract on her side. She took a calming breath, it would not do to alienate the Delacour girl.

-(()())-

The 5 girls looked after by the Greengrass family was sat in a single compartment. The Prefect meeting had finished half an hour ago, and now they were sat around, talking quietly as time went on. Harry had gone off to change, in anticipation for the rush that would come in the toilets as they approached Hogwarts. The grils, likewise, were dressed in their school robes, and had moved onto the topic of the tournament that they had heard of from the Delacours.

The group was discussing the pros and cons of entering the contest; not for themselves, mind you, but for Harry. They unanimously agreed that he would be most likely to be victorious against whatever competition the schools brought along with them. He had proven that fact time and time again. Most recently during the Death-Eater incident. If the group asked him to, he would surely enter the contest. That would be beneficial to them and himself. And, though he never confirmed it, the 5 of them believed that he probably wanted, on some level, to prove himself to his estranged family despite Harry's assurances to the contrary. What better way than to become the tri-wizard champion?

On the other hand, though, there was still a very real risk if he did enter. The death toll was nothing to be made light of, what would they do if Harry was hurt or, Merlin forbid, killed in this? However, the group knew that it would be a good thing for everyone, other than the other schools, that is, if they were represented by someone of Harry Potter's calibre.

As they reached this conclusion, the door opened, revealing a blonde, arrogant ponce.

"Ah, the Greengrass sisters. What are you two doing with these orphans?" He asked, comically looking down his nose, with his head tilted slightly upwards, as he did in order to show some form of _superiority_. He asked the same thing again and again, as if they would come around to his side with enough persistence.

"Piss off Malfoy." Tracy said, irritated already.

"Ah, the slut's daughter dares talk to me?" He said, with a haughty smirk on his face.

The group knew what that was referring to, and there was no need to say that it upset those inside the cabin. Tracy's father had died quickly in the raid that killed the girl's parents, a merciful death. Her mother, though, had been _kept alive_ for a long time before her death. Tracy paled at the insult, and everyone's anger rose.

"You think that your gorilla body guards will stop me from cursing that slimy smile off your face, Malfoy?" Astoria growled out. "Get. Out. Now."

"Ah-ah. That's not a very nice thing to say, sweet Tori." The younger Greengrass shuddered. "Crabbe. Goyle. I don't think anyone would blame you if you happened to... take revenge on her during the school year." The smirk grew further as he spoke, and was, soon after, wiped suddenly off his face.

"But, my ignorant little friends." Harry planted his hands on each of the bulky boys' shoulder, and their legs shook slightly at the sudden pressure. "The activity of _taking revenge_ does tend to increase the chances of your muscles being a little too strained to prevent falling down a flight of stairs and snapping your necks. So I'd have to _recommend_ avoiding such strenuous activities." He growled, and shoved them apart, stepping through the created gap, and continued.

"You aught to leave, blondie. I'd hate to assign detentions before we even arrive at school. Though I'm sure Hagrid'd be happy to help punish any people that were assigned there for threatening one of his favourite students." The Malfoy heir paled even further than normal as he heard the word 'Hagrid'. "That means _get out_." The boy, trying to maintain a sense of dignity, slowly scampered out of the cabin. While he was doing so, Harry spoke again in a low voice. "And if you ever bring up what your father and his club did again, I will _cripple you."_ He promised, in a hiss. Draco's retreat increased in speed.

Harry dropped down onto the open seat in the compartment, and stretched. The feline aspect of his mind was responsible for that habit. The girls were shown that he had developed even further over the summer by his shirt riding up, and hinting at the etched muscles underneath.

Harry was happy, later on in the journey, to assign three detentions each to his brother, Malfoy, Crab and Ronald for brawling in the hallways. They would be working with Filtch to clean around the school, the specifics waiting to be given by the squib himself. The 4 were upset, but he cared little for any of them, and certainly not for their opinions.

-()()-

"Now, I have a very exciting announcement to make to you about this year. One that promises a lot of enjoyment to be had by all involved..."

Dumbledore left that statement hanging, increasing the anticipation that many people felt regarding this statement. Harry was bored at this point. He knew exactly what the old man was going to announce.

"This year, Hogwarts is going to host the Tri-Wizard tournament!"

For several beats, silence reigned through the Great Hall.

"You're joking!" One of the Weasley twins exclaimed. This set off the majority of the hall. Everyone laughed, even the Headmaster gave a chuckle.

"No, Mr Weasley, I assure you I am not. Although I did hear a good one over the summer. A Hag, a Troll and a Leprechaun walk into a bar- Ah, not important." Dumbledore cut himself off after Mcgonagall cleared her throat.

"As I was saying, this year, we will be hosting two other, very prestigious, schools. Durmstrang and Beuabaxtons. The students from the aforementioned schools, will be arriving at the end of next week in order to begin the other, friendlier competitions we will be holding, that we are sure will help improve foreign relations. These will include a duelling contest that you may begin applying for immediately; see Professor Flitwick if you are interested, and are at least a 4th year." The diminutive Professor waved enthusiastically. "As well as this, we will have an inter-school Quidditch tournament, see Madam Hooch to try out for one of the two Hogwarts teams, a trivia competition for those more interested in academics, and, as a more light-hearted event, we will be having a long running talent show."

Murmurs broke out throughout his soliloquy, people talking about what they were going to go in for, and who would do best in each. Who would 'bring glory' to Hogwarts.

"But, to get onto the main point of this announcement, we have made increased the volume of tasks in the main tournament by holding 6 as opposed to the 3 that have historically taken place. The competition promises to be extremely exciting, and promises that we will have an interesting year. However, the danger has promoted several precautions. We will, once more, be joined by the Aurors from our ministry, along with a squad from the French ministry, and a squadron of Bulgarian law enforcers. Thankfully, our minister has seen fit to remove the dementors from our grounds and, along with this, the number of Hogsmade trips will be increasing too, for our foreign friends to enjoy themselves in our famed town. But in the spirit of safety, we are restricting the entry of the Triwizard tournament to people who have, by the time they enter, passed their OWLs."

"What?!" Ronald Weasley exclaimed, while his older brothers wore matching grins at the prospect of entering, and in their minds winning, the contest. "That's not fair!" Did the 4th year expect it to be a chess tournament or something?

"I'm sorry if that upsets anybody, but it has been agreed by each school involved, as well as their respective ministries, that this criteria is necessary to prevent any excessive danger to the respective champions."

The Headmaster went on to introduce the auror captains from last year; James Potter and Sirius Black, much to Harry's annoyance, the new DADA professor; Alastor Moody, the new Muggle studies professor; Lily Potter, worsening Harry's mood even further (he thanked the powers that be that Lupin was kicked out last year), and the ministry workers in charge of the contest, Bagman and Crouch, who were attending for the single feast before the contest.

The chatter was making Harry's coming headache all the more prominent. It would be a _long_ year.

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**One more thing: The anonymous reviewer who used the name PaC brought up some issues I'd like to clarify. This is ****_not_**** a 'smut fic', no funny business occurred in the earlier chapters. I specifically said that Harry ****_didn't_**** think of the girls in a sisterly manner, furthermore, he's not related to any of them. I got a little mixed up with the earlier book's chronology, but have fixed it now, and also clarified that Hermione did set the fire. Plus, I'm not aiming to make this scientifically accurate, sorry if that offends anyone.**

**I'm not trying to make Harry too overpowered, either; first year was a trap that Quirrell triggered, second was outsmarting a snake and striking quickly against the diary, and third, admittedly, was simply his form being stronger than Lupin's; since I ****_am_**** making him stronger than the weak/unremarkable Harry from Canon.**


	5. Back at Hogwarts

**I own nothing you recognise. **

**Please Favourite/Follow/Review.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter, if you've got any suggestions that would make you enjoy the story more, I'd be glad to hear them.**

_Mundungus Fletcher was stalking a prime target for robbery. _

_The 12 year old up ahead was dressed in very pristine robes, as he walked into a quiet street of Diagon Alley, looking around casually as he, presumably, waited for his family to finish shopping elsewhere._

_Greedy, beady little eyes locked onto the heavy, jingling coin purse tied to his belt, and Fletcher sped up, bumping into the boy, and snatching the Galleons with surprisingly nimble fingers._

_With a triumphant grin, the sweaty man walked off._

"_Give it back, sneak." A voice rang out, making the sweat-stains grow at the cold venom radiating from the words._

"_G-Give what back?" Mundungus asked, nervously as he turned to face the hard, emerald eyes._

"_My coin purse, you disgusting man." The pre-teen snarled._

"_I've no idea what you mean." Mundungus said, voice wavering only slightly._

"_You I'm going to give you _one_ chance to give me my money back, before I break your legs." Harry growled at the man. Mundungus met the fierce gaze, and gulped nervously as he felt something inspire primal fear in him._

"_Y-Yeah, fine!" He tossed the purse back, and scurried away as fast as his fat legs would carry him._

_-()()()()-(_)(_)-()()()()-_

"Harry! Harry!" A female voice called.

Crap.

Harry sped up, weaving between the crowd leaving the great hall after dinner, the day after Lily had been introduced to the school. He was more than a little annoyed by the fact that the woman was calling him _sweetie_, as though she was his _mother_.

The red head tried to follow her estranged son as he quickly moved through the crowd, but quickly found that the raven haired teen was far quicker than she, and watched as Harry slipped through the doors, and vanished.

Thankfully, to Lily anyway, she now had the rest of the school year, at least, to talk to him. She _would_ manage _this_ time.

"_Where is he then?!" James Potter demanded of the man in front of him, who was blocking the doorway from the head of house Potter. "I want to see my son!"_

_To his left, a teary eyed Lily Potter nee-Evans was on her tip toes, trying to see past the broad form of Andrew Greengrass; only to find the hallway behind to be empty. They must have been in another room._

"_He is not here Lord Potter. I would ask that you compose yourself." Andrew replied to the angered man, voice unemotive as he met James' gaze._

"_Compose myself?! Compose Myself?! You kidnapped my son you Bastard!" The male Potter yelled at the man he blamed for his heir's absence._

"Kidnapped_, you are accusing me of _Kidnapping _Harry?!" Andrew Greengrass lost his temper briefly. "He was alone for half a decade before we found him, Lord Potter. He chose to stay with us."_

"_He is our son!" Lily interjected. "What right do you have to have him live with you?!"_

"_Because he has chosen to do so. _We_ care enough about him to take him into account." He aimed the cheap shot at the 'parents' in front of him. "And, since Harry does not want to see either of you, and in fact is not here, I am going to have to ask you to vacate my property."_

"_You..." James growled out, through gritted teeth, before he just snarled at the bigger man and the two Potters stormed off; they had no foot to stand on given that Harry didn't seem to be present._

-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-

"Hey, Harry." Tracy collapsed onto the couch next to the ebony haired boy, and yawned widely. "Professor Potter's getting annoying in her pursuit of you, y'know." The girl's hand twitched towards Harry's, but Harry dismissed the action. The only thing he could think it might mean was that she had the desire to attack him, and her subconscious was expressing as much. He trusted Tracy, though; it must have had another meaning.

"Is she bothering you, Trace?" He asked, as he looked away from the pages. Harry was concerned that his mother was upsetting his friends. What right did she have to do so?

"Eh. A little, but I can handle it." She yawned yet again. "You looking forward to tonight?"

"You mean the other schools?"

"Yup."

"I'm sure it'll be interesting." Harry nodded, before the side of his mouth twitched. "I do hope none of our own will embarrass us, though." His eyes flicked over to the Gryffindor-ish Slytherin 4th Year that was holding court across the room.

"Oh, I _wonder_ who you could mean." The two knew that the reference was aimed at the Malfoy scion.

"A mystery." He smiled. "So," He continued. "Who do you reckon is going to be on our Quiddich team?" He enjoyed Quiddich, and it was an area of small talk that sometimes enjoyed discussing. Particularly when it was with one of his friends.

"Hmm. Assuming that every Quiddich player tried out... Almost definitely the Weasley Twins. They're the undisputed best beaters when paired." Harry nodded, agreeing with the assessment. "Keeper's up in the air, no really good ones left after the end of last year. Chasers... Well, there's you. Then it'll probably be two of the Gryffindor ones. Seeker, I don't really know between Diggory and Chang."

"I agree." He rubbed his jaw, and looked at his friend contemplatively. "So, have you decided what you're going in for?" Harry asked.

"No... Maybe the academic? Although I'm not sure I'd fit in with that group."

"You wouldn't want to spend too long in the company of Granger, would you?" He asked, with a smirk. Tracy giggled in return. The bushy haired girl was not unpleasant, but she talked _a lot_ about things nobody else cared about.

"I'd end up silencing her, no doubt." She replied before sighing and saying. "I'll try for the duelling, anyway. No harm in going in for it."

"Thanks for waiting, Trace?" A cold voice remarked, and the two looked up to meet the violet eyes of Daphne Greengrass. She was looking at Tracy with some small annoyance, after her best friend had rushed on ahead after class.

"Hey, Daph. Did _Professor_ _Potter_ bother you, too?"

"Ugh." She took the seat on Harry's other side, and scowled in answer. Then, she decided to elaborate on her feelings. "She's stubborn, you've got to give her that."

"It was bad enough with my father here _last year._ This is going to get old _really_ quickly." Harry murmured his assent with the girls' views.

"Oy! Everyone get ready to head down for the greeting." It had reached 4:00pm by now, and the delegations were set to arrive within the hour. "We head down in 10 minutes!" The seventh year prefect called out. The three dropped their things off in their rooms, and met back at the entrance. The group of Slytherins arrived promptly down at the entrance hall.

-()()()-

"The lake! Look at the lake!" Lee Jordan called out.

From the black water, Harry and the others watched a old-timy, massive ship rise from the depths.

"Interesting." Harry commented as the ship revealed the entirety of itself. How did that work? Interesting summed up his thought process quite well.

"So that's Durmstrang, then." The group that exited was wearing thick coats, and marched uniformly up to the massive archway of a door, where the dislikeable headmaster and Dumbledore exchanged greetings.

"Thomas! That's Viktor Krum!" The youngest Weasley boy called out, to the delight of his prankster brothers who began mocking him with kissing noises. The delegation, lead by the surly Quidditch star, walked into the castle, as the two school's headmasters greeted each other. After a brief conversation, the crowd's attention was drawn elsewhere.

"In the sky!" Another voice called out, and sure enough there was a large, regal carriage pulled by a group of Pegasus. The students who emerged gave the impression of condescension as soon as Harry laid eyes on them. A shocking achievement; for the entire group to scream arrogance. A giant woman led the procession towards the Hogwarts delegation, standing at least the height of their resident half giant.

"Dumbleedoor!" The woman greeted, cheerfully. They exchanged pleasantries, that Harry paid no attention to, as the Beaubaxtons students came level with the group of Hogwarts students. They looked around with disgusted expressions, as the majority of males of the British school went slack jawed at the aura a beautiful blonde at the front of their procession was giving off.

Harry scowled at the expressions of his housemates, as he felt a tug at his subconsciousness; resisting the Veela allure as he shrugged the effects off. How disgusting the boys were. Half of them were openly drooling at the very presence of the French girl.

-()-

Harry sat, once again, bored in the hall. Dumbledore was mostly just repeating what he had previously said to his own students. Explaining the duelling contest especially, the competitors for which were to meet for the first time tomorrow, on the Saturday, to be divided into the brackets that they would be competing against.

As he sighed, he attracted attention from the, newly arrived, Durmstrang girls. They watched the handsome boy lean his head into his hand, and close his eyes. Only to be on the receiving end of the ice-queen's glare.

Dumbledore finally finished his speech, and food appeared in the centre of each long table.

Harry moved his attention to the Ravenclaw table, checking on his other friends, and found a source of amusement for himself.

A bright red faced pair of Gryffindor 4th years was what greeted a gorgeous blonde across the hall. She seemed to be asking for a dish that they had on the table, but had been treated to the-boy-who-lived's _charm_ and his best friend gaping at her. Thomas Potter seemed to think that the girl had an interest on him, as he grinned at her and patted the bench next to him. Then, he suddenly dissolved into a pile of drool, and his mouth hung open. Granger handed the French dish to Fleur Delacour with an apology, and the Veela turned to head back to Ravenclaw's table with a disgusted expression.

That look changed into one of recognition as her eyes met those of the other Potter student across the hall from her, and she had a reaction that certainly seemed out of place in her otherwise cold expression. Her cheeks became pink at the fact that she had, even briefly and unintentionally, looked at her, and her family's, saviour with such a look, not to mention the fact that she knew the handsome lad had carried her while she was both unconscious, and very nearly naked, right after he had seen her in such a pathetic state. Her mask came back on at the though that the male would probably think of her as just a weakling that needed to be rescued; a stereotype that was oft placed on Veela.

Well, that was part of the reason she had acted in such a manner, but she pushed the other reason out of her head, and focused on the undeniable.

Then, the boy smirked at her, and glanced to the-boy-who-lived behind her, grin growing at the embarrassment he no doubt suffered at that moment along with his annoying friend.

Harry turned to Daphne next to him, and murmured, with a smirk.

"Look at my brother." The ice-queen gave an uncharacteristic snort at the sight of the 'almighty saviour' in such a pitiful state, and shook her head.

"Pathetic."

"That about sums them up." Harry smiled back. "The older Veela girl we saved's here, then."

"That's right." Daphne frowned slightly at her statement. "And I think you mean _you _saved."

"Why does that upset you?" He asked his friend, confused at her minute, but still visible, reaction.

The violet eyed beauty turned to him with the frown still present, and shook her head.

"It's nothing. Don't worry." Now, it was Harry's turn to frown.

"You sure?" At her nod he relented. "Okay." Harry assumed that he had been mistaken. "But remember that you can rant at me if you want." He reminded her.

"I know Harry, I know." The two fell back into silence as Harry piled meat onto his plate; a hint of his animagus forms and, this time, their diets.

-()()()()-

Poppy Pomphrey was hoping sincerely that the addition of these two new schools wouldn't change the repertoire that had been built up over the last three years.

Well, it had already been true for three out of four houses in Hogwarts, but she was happy to see the end of girls' coming into the hall with 'mystery injuries' that were obviously, to the Healer, from assaults of a sexual nature. That was a disgusting secret that had been true of the school for who knows how long. Likely since the time of the founders. Salazar's house had turned a blind eye to the rights, limited as they were, of Witches being violated.

Of course, the stopping of those injuries had been accompanied by an increase of visits from others.

_Flashback_

"_Umm... Madame Pomphrey?" She turned, to find a dozen Slytherin boys, made up of 6__th__ and 7__th__ year, standing nervously in the doorway, glancing around sheepishly as though to make sure not to be overheard._

"_Can I help you?" She frowned, and unconsciously her hand edged towards the pocket holding her wand. She was aware of their night-time _activities _with the girls from their house. She was unwilling to risk the same herself._

_Each of these boys had also paid a visit at the beginning of the year after falling down the stairs and seriously injuring themselves... a half dozen times at minimum._

"_Yes... you see..." One spoke up. "We're having... problems with our... you know our..." He gestured downwards non-committally and reddened. Oddly nervous for a male Slytherin._

"_You all are?" She questioned. That was an odd coincidence._

_The group nodded._

"_And what seems to be the problem? I assume you were referring to your genitalia?"_

_Nods again._

"_And are you going to tell me what the issue is?" Poppy almost snapped at the high year Slytherins._

"_They... uh... They aren't working?!" The same boy eep'd._

The fifth years had followed the next day, the year under a year after. Poppy Pomphrey had been unable to help any of them with their 'problem'.

The same group had turned up, in pairs, later in the year with various hexes and jinxes impairing them; claiming that they had been practising duelling and it had gone wrong. They hated the idea of admitting a third year bested them in a fight.

Needless to say that impotence, added to the copious amounts of pain that came with attempting to hurt any of the girls, warned the younger years away from carrying on the tradition.

-(_)()(_)-

The next day, Harry Potter woke up a little after noon, the weekend not requiring an early rise from the 6th year, and headed down in time for lunch. Yet again, his sleeping in was a habit he had received as a part of the package deal that was his animagus gifts.

The Great Hall was packed by this time, in anticipation of the duelling club that would be taking place early in the afternoon. As he walked into the hall, Harry felt the eyes of the majority of the hall fall upon him.

The attention he had received briefly the night before, namely from the girls who had not yet seen him, increased significantly as they got a good look at him and the way he carried himself.

Nobody could dispute Harry being attractive; he was likely the best looking male in the three schools, but that fact was largely unimportant as the ebony-haired wizard strode through the doors.

Fleur Delacour, along with the very limited group of friends she had from Beaubaxtons, watched the boy that had arrived late to the hall; intrigued by the odd aura he gave off. One of lethal grace that they had never seen before. Upon first glance, Harry Potter would appear nonchalant, _relaxed_ even, but if you watched him closely, at least as closely as many girls in the hall were, you would notice the slight tensing of his body. The subtle, yet significant, tautness.

'Alastor Moody', along with the few others in the Great Hall that had any experience with fighting, and more importantly _war_, knew that the tall male had experience in the art of death.

The only question was how.

It would seem odd to most that the headmaster accepted this boy as a student. Even gave him a position of authority in being a prefect. But the elderly wizard was well aware of the boy and his heroic tendency, despite Harry's dislike for that aspect of himself. He had saved the-boy-who-lived, a person that he detested, at least twice in the Hogwarts career. Thrice if you counted the werewolf incident that may well have resulted in Thomas' death from the year prior. The Greengrasses were a neutral family; and Harry had been heavily influenced by their teachings. While the boy likewise wasn't an avid supporter of Dumbledore and the light side, likely doubtful enough to accept a fight with the light wizards that practised such idolisation toward Albus, he had always been civil towards the Headmaster. Plus, Filius was influential to the elder Potter, at least, and that certainly suggested that the boy was not of the dark persuasion; the powerful wizard sincerely believed that Harry had a good heart. Even more so than he did with everyone.

Of course, Harry was a person to watch, Dumbledore could not refute the need to keep an eye on the Potter teen. He had foiled several of the situations that would have helped prepare his brother, something that had bothered the Headmaster to begin with, but when he thought back over the summer, Albus had easily realised that Thomas would likely have perished at least once by now; the younger boy was a true blue Gryffindor, charging blindly into danger would not help against a Basilisk. Granted, Harry's technique against the deadly serpent was far from subtle, odd for a Slytherin, but at least he'd utilised the element of surprise.

Come to think of it, subtlety would probably be less than useful against such a monster.

Even those that were cut from the red and gold cloth in school accepted the need for planning later on in life. The Headmaster was aware of the much more subtle method that he had seen from Thomas' memories of the 1st year incident. Harry would have put himself in a dangerous, and very likely losable, situation if he were to fight a death eater as a 3rd year, no matter how strong he was for his age. It was good to see that Harry had the common sense not to throw himself into such a situation. Unlike his younger brother.

Albus Percivel Wulfrick Brian Dumbledore reminisced on the one on one 'meeting' he had with Harry after the chamber of secrets incident.

_Albus had arrived back at school, having heard word of the students entering the chamber had scared the board into reinstating the extremely powerful headmaster, hoping to save themselves from the backlash that surely would have accompanied their compliance in expelling the strongest living wizard from the castle when they needed his help most._

_He had deduced where the chamber was while away; recalling the location of Myrtle's death. He was furious with himself for not realising the obvious connection earlier, but he had been occupied with other issues too much to investigate a girl's bathroom._

_Now, he was stood inside, watching the hole in the ground as a familiar aura came flying upwards. His old friend had still been able to help, at least._

_The flame bird floated up from the depths below with a regal grace, talons clutching a giddily grinning figure of Gilderoy Lockhart, and a heavy breathing Harry Potter. Lockhart was holding the collar of the youngest Potter, while the elder Potter held the bicep of the youngest male Weasley nonchalantly, and had the Weasley girl resting in his right arm._

"_Professor Lockhart? What is going on here?" Dumbledore questioned, flabbergasted at the notion that Gilderoy saved the children from Slytherin's monster. How could the fraud possibly have saved them?_

_Albus kept his gaze on the sparling-teethed man, who stared back for half a minute before he turned to Harry._

"_I think he's talking to you." The grinning man said._

"_Ugh." Harry sighed. "I found Weasley's wand next to him. His eyes were glazed and he was just sat there, sir. Either he got hit on the head by something, he got drunk and fell down the hole, or a memory charm backfired on him." Harry shook his head, the man was a fool._

"_Is that so?" Dumbledore focused on Harry, prodding very slightly at his mind with legilmency, to check the boy was truly himself. Harry Potter was speaking to him, and so Albus ventured no deeper. "And what happened down there, Harry?" The boy smiled at him and shrugged the best he could with his burden._

"_I'm not sure Professor. I turned up just as whatever happened finished. A guy had stabbed a fang into a little black book, that then screamed bloody murder, turned into some kind of little bird, and flew away."_

"_Really? And you have no idea who dealt with Sytherin's monster?" Albus was more than sceptical, but his eyes had a slight twinkle of amusement._

"_None at all, sir."_

Of course, that had been a lie. Albus had asked James and Lily for permission to retrieve Thomas' memory of the event, and had seen plain as day that the boy who killed the beast had been Harry. It wasn't exactly difficult to recognise the messy raven hair and the boy's profile.

Unaware of the Headmaster's train of thought, Harry strode toward the silver and green table, shifting uncomfortably at the number of eyes upon him. Why were they _always_ watching him?!

-()()()-

"... and those are the rules in a wizards' duel." The squeaky voice of Professor Flitwick finished "As a brief overview; you must stay inside the designated area on your end of the platform, using the spells you so choose to fight your opponent. In England, we have a ban on any spells designated as dark, these rules vary depending on the country, and this tournament will be ruled _against_ any lethal spells, or specifically illegal spellcasting. Because the laws in Britain are the most restrictive, it is simply, for any Hogwarts student, not to use lethal lethal intent, or dark spells." The diminutive Professor carried on speaking, hopping up and down in excitement from getting to discuss duelling, like the good old days. Easy enough for the potential British competitors.

"Now," Filius Flitwick continued. "To decide our representatives in this competition, we will have a tournament between each year, to find the top three of each. Those twelve will be our duellists." His grin grew even further. "Are there any questions?"

When nobody had any, the half goblin hopped down from his perch and headed over to the sheet of paper with the list of each student that desired the opportunity to be in the tournament. He picked it up and all but skipped over to a large blackboard over on one wall.

The Charms professor tapped his wand against the paper, then against the board, and chalk began spreading over the black surface; showing 12 brackets of students, each year having been split in two. They would, after this next demonstration, be sent off with their year group to begin competing. Not finishing, for sure, but they should get through the first round at least.

"Now. Since I am the only teacher here at the moment, I'll need a volunteer to assist me in showing the younger students how to properly duel. I believe that the demonstration that was given 2 years ago was less than helpful." Harry watched the little man's grin grow as he turned, pretending to scan the students, to face the raven haired 6th year. "Ah! Mr Potter, yes, you should do well!"

Those near Harry heard the boy let out a groan.

"Of course, Professor."

He climbed slowly onto the platform, and approached the centre of the long stage. The smaller man grinned at him as he, too, approached, and they stopped halfway down the length.

"Proper etiquette in duelling requires that the opponents bow to each other." Flitwick narrated. The two did so. "Then, you return to your designated ring." They went back to their circle, 12ft in diameter, and stopped as Filius spoke once more. "Next, the referee will count down to begin. In this case; I will do so myself. Now remember, Harry, this is just a demonstration. I may call 'time' in order for us to explain what is happening to any beginners in the audience." The professor smiled while Harry had a focused look on his face, stance relaxed. "Three... Two... One... Begin!"

"_Pavo! Engorgio! Oppugno!"_ Harry yelled loudly, with three swipes of his wand. 7 Peacocks charged toward the diminutive professor, growing massively.

The professor threw several blasting curses, and the Peacocks were destroyed with ease, only for a red bolt to fly at the half-goblin, a blue streak following, and the professor dodged easily aside. A powerful _reducto_ slammed into the ground in front of the charms professor, and rocks and dust flew up in a cloud, before it was charmed to race at the professor, preventing his visual.

The small professor shot a few minor jinxes at Harry, to keep him on his toes, and dissapated the cloud of dust before sending an _Expelliarmus_ at his 'opponent'. Harry, having dodged the nuisance spells, sent a strong gust of wind at the half-goblin. Flitwick sent a wind-breaker at the gust, and began dodging as Harry started rapid firing spells at the professor.

Flitwick narrowly dodged a stunner, and sent a trio of red bolts back at Harry, the target used a strong shield spell, and prepared to send an onslaught back at the professor, only for the second 'stunner' to tear open a hole in the shield, and for the third to catch the powerful student in the chest.

-()-

"_Rennervate."_ A high pitched voice uttered, and Harry's eyes shot open, and he sat up with a groan.

"You did well this time, Harry." Flitwick spoke loudly. "Does anyone know what he did wrong?!"

The majority of students were silent. A few 6th and 7th years murmured, and then a 4th year spoke up.

"He was against a more powerful opponent!" Hermione Granger called out, hand raised. Harry assumed that this was her brown-nosing as he was told, though it may have been by biased sources, that the bushy-haired girl was a teachers pet.

"That is a possible reason. Do you believe that it was the case in this duel, Harry?" Filius turned to the boy, who shakily rose to his feet, righting his balance quickly enough with a shake of his head.

"No. You were the more skilled and experienced. Not to mention that you had the advantage in build." He shrugged, annoyed with himself for losing, but understanding why. He had entirely expected to lose this bout against the duelling champion. He'd lost count but it must be nearing 80-10. And those ten were questionable, given that he had used tactics that, while not _banned_, were heavily frowned upon in professional circles. "You used your advantages better than I used mine."

"Exactly. Winning a duel is, of course, dependant on magical power and skill, but more importantly is the certain _edge_ that everyone has. The advantages that you must utilise in real life in order to survive. The same can be said in a duel. For example, it is well known that Mr Potter is uncommonly powerful. Had he poured more power into the number of spells he could have sent, especially destructive ones, he may well have won." Harry snorted.

"Except for the fact that you don't use shields. I could probably overpower your defences, but you just scamper out of the way and dodge. Unless I destroyed your circle, or sent a wide range banishing spell; both of which'd be illegal by the way, since they'd most likely be fatal, I'd stand no chance of winning." Harry shook his head. He was more crass than most with his professors, and earned a disapproving frown from the 4th year Gryffindor because of it, but Flitwick had long since accepted that it was the same with all but a select few.

Minerva had explained that to him a few years ago

_There was a staff meeting taking place in the Headmaster's office that Thursday evening, and the heads of house had finished giving their reports to Dumbledore; now, they were moving on to the observations that anyone had made regarding behaviour. It was unfortunate that they could not do anything against perpetrators unless a victim came forth; an old rule from the founders to prevent any abuse of students, or certain incidents would have been severely punished years ago._

"_And what observations have you made regarding Thomas Potter?" Albus questioned Filius and the others present, eyes twinkling merrily._

_The third year professors shrugged, not knowing the boy; while Filus, Poppy, Pomona and Minerva's, being the nearest the Headmaster's desk, frowns were the most noticeable. Other than Severus' scowl, anyway, but that expression was to be expected. Albus looked shocked at the reactions briefly before he schooled his expression back into his kind-hearted one._

_Severus just muttered angrily about the boy being "As arrogant as his father.", but the other, less biased Professors also interjected their opinions on the 1__st__ year._

"_I have heard rumours of him bullying, Albus. He has used his fame to 'become the top of the food chain' so to speak." Minerva said, with a disapproving frown on her face._

"_More than just rumours!" Pomona exclaimed. "He's been reffering to my 'Puffs as 'useless' since he arrived, and I've had complaints regularly about him 'pranking' them. In very unpleasant ways, too!" She shot a small glare at the head of Gryffindor._

"_I am sorry, Pomona. I wish I could help, but Thomas has _convinced_ other students to give alibis for him on each occasion. And you know as well as I that insults are not enough to punish a student unless it causes serious emotional distress; else the derogatory term that is popular in Severus' house would have long since faded away." The plump woman gave a reluctant nod at the logic._

"_I've found the same to be true, Albus." Filius chirped. "He is less than pleasant to those in any other house; this includes my 'Claws, who he calls 'Nerds and Bookworms'. Fortunately, they have been told by the rest of my house that Thomas is not the Potter brother that they should be wary of!" Filius had a hint of pride at the mention of the older Potter. He had been on good terms throughout with the strong boy since his first year; Harry had known the half-goblin as a child, since Filius often consulted with Lily on matters in her ministry research job, and the young boy had found the strange looking man amusing in a manner that only a child could get away with; often referring to him as 'little manny!' when he was 3. It was unsurprising for the Charms' professor to be proud of Harry's progress, and power._

"_Speaking of young Harry," Dumbledore said, with his customary twinkle. "Minerva; you said that you had a theory regarding his... bluntness that most of us have observed in him in recent weeks." Minerva nodded and began._

"_Yes. As you've brought up before, Harry has registered with the ICW as an Animagus, correct?" The older wizard nodded. "Well, this is just a hypothesis as none of us know what Harry's form actually is, but I believe it must be some kind of pack animal and hunter. A wolf of some kind would be my guess, and that means that he views things, at least partially, in the manner of a wolf."_

"_What does that mean?" Albus asked, likely for the sake of the others present._

"_He still gives you respect doesn't he, Albus?"_

"_He seems to, yes." The Headmaster confirmed with a nod._

"_Then he likely realises you are powerful enough to earn that respect. But he probably has no real reason to give any of us the same level." She had a disapproving tone. "Because of his wolf aspect, he pays heed to 'the Alpha'. That would, logically, still be you." She said, continuing with her addressing the Headmaster. "But even then, a part of him will question whether you have the youth required. If he was entirely a wolf, Harry would probably have challenged you at least once by now for the position."_

"_Do wolves not tend to respect their elders though, Minerva?"_

"_Again, this is speculation, but I think that he does, for the most part. Harry still attends lessons, showing he accepts that we are have experience that he may learn from. I think it's simply that he believes, like a canine would, that youth and athleticism is an advantage, and that us being older doesn't mean we are fit to 'lead'." Albus nodded, understanding the explanation, and the meeting continued on briefly before the Headmaster dismissed the teachers back to their chambers._

The charms professor split the group into their brackets, and then he moved them into pairs within for the first match-up. He gave instructions to half to wait off to the side and with a wave of his wand, enough rings for each pair to have two appeared on the floor.

Lee Jordan looked rather unhappy, to Harry. He was scowling quite visibly at the others around, jealous of their choice for opponent.

"This sucks." The Quiddich announcer grumbled.

"Yeah. Sorry about this." Harry said, with the smallest of smiles showing his amusement. Evidently the boy had a inkling that Harry would beat him in the duel, and the animagus found that fact amusing.

The two approached, walking to the mid way point between their circles, and bowed at the waist. The two retreated back to their respective circles. The rest of the groups did the same, and once everyone was in position, Flitwick raised his wand, and a large number 3 appeared in the air.

...2

...1

...BEGIN!

There were various cries of incantations across the large classroom as people shot off their go to spell, but, as Lee swished his wand through the air, he saw a trio of ropes sailing toward him, intent to strangle, and panicked. He slashed his wand down, sending a cutting curse at them, and felt a slight satisfaction as the ropes fell, useless, to the ground.

A silent _impedimenta_ caught him in the chest, and Lee felt his legs fly back, as his front went forward. The ground rose to meet him as his unprotected face.

After feeling his nose break, Lee ahd an invisible force tug his left ankle, and yank him into the air; where he floated with his robes dangling and covering his face.

"I give! I give! You win!" Lee Jordan exclaimed, before he dropped unceremoniously back to the ground, while his opponent chuckled at the speed of their duel.

-(_)(_)-

"Congratulations." Harry said, with a smile for the victorious 3 in front of him, Tracy, Daphne and Caroline having defeated heir opponents in the first round. Doubtless Jasmine would have, also, had she chosen to participate. As it was, she had stood with Harry as they watched the three in the second part of the duels.

"Yep! You did really well!" Jasmine added, with a victorious smirk, which was not visible to the boy she had her arm linked with. The other 3 glared at her as her smirk grew to a grin and she waggled her eyebrows at them. They were distracted as Harry let out an amused chuckle, and turned to ask him what it was.

"That's a good pairing." Harry smirked at the final fight that was going on.

The Weasley twins seemed to be evenly matched as they went head to head, each sending a stunner at their brother, both of which collided and fizzled out in mid air. The one on the right, whichever brother it was, shot a Jelly-Leg jinx, followed by a disarming charm at the other, while his brother sent a tickling charm, and yet another _expelliarmus_ back in return. Both hit, and both wands flew off out of their wielders' hand.

The mid-air writing announced a tie as the end result, but the two ignored it, aiming to best their brother.

A giggling Weasley charged out of his ring, and engaged his brother muggle style. The attacker punched his sibling in the stomach, knocking his brother off his unsupportive legs and onto his back. The standing Weasley fell onto his back, cackling madly, and his opponent rolled over to begin punching at his twin. The two rolled over repeatedly, trying to get the upper hand in their brawl. The room, at this point, was full of laughter at the comical sight of the identical gingers playing fisticuffs.

With a wave of his wand, Flitwick, who was also grinning, separated the pair.

"You bastard!" Both Weasleys yelled. "You never talk to me again!" The pair spun on their heels, and stormed off.

"Gee." Tracy commented, sarcastically. "I wonder how long _that_ will last." The others laughed at the idea of one of their falling outs lasting more than a day.

**I hope you enjoyed this.**

**If not; once again please tell me why and I'll try to improve.**


	6. Talent?

**I own nothing you recognise.**

**Sorry, I meant to publish this over the weekend, but my internet's acting up a lot recently.**

**Please Follow/Favourite/Review.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

_A group, each riding horseback, was storming through the woods, following the sound of their hunting dogs as they pursued the persistent and cowardly fox in a game of sport. The adrenaline was rushing through each of them as they felt the thrill associated with the sport._

_To many it would seem barbaric; they had no real reason to go fox hunting after all, but the group themselves each felt it was all in good fun to rid themselves of the vermin, as well as being able to express their more 'masculine' desires in a controlled and civilised manner._

_However, their glee was quickly cancelled out as the yips and barks of their hounds rapidly grew near. Why were they returning? There was no reason for the fox to come this way, was there? Why else would the dogs be returning?_

_This train of thought was interrupted by a chilling howl that rang through the woods; echoing from seemingly every direction. The group let out a collective gulp of fear, and were more than a little glad when their horses bolted._

-()()-

'What the hell...' Harry wondered to himself, as he watched the Beaubaxtons girl across from him's mouth move at an unreasonable speed.

"...and I 'ave a seester called Charmaine; she's just turned 11 and eez starting at our school next year, she's annoyed zat 'er birthday means she _just_ misses out on attending zis year and so I 'ad to put up eith 'er complaining all zrough ze zummer. She just wouldn't shut up zroughout, and _I_ got een trouble when I snapped at 'er. 'Ow is zat fair? She was zo annoying! She dezerved eet!" The girl was rambling an awful lot. Harry had yet to say even a word, she... Alison, he believed the girl had called herself, had simply sat down and started yapping. Even weirder; the girl had yet to blink, eyes locked on his own emerald orbs. What the hell was she trying to achieve through talking so incessantly _at_ him? "... and my parents took 'er zide! Can you believe that?!" She didn't wait for a response. "Just because she eez leetle, zey alwayz take 'er side! 'Ow iz zat fair?!" From what Harry could tell, she had bullied the girl, and since Alison seemed to be 15 or so, that was plenty of reason for her parents to take the side of her little sister. But by now the Beaubaxtons girl had moved on to the subject of her school. This was getting weird. _Why_ would she be telling him so much about herself? And where did he recognise that expression from? "My favourite subject eez charms, I am ze best een my year in zat, and 'ope to 'ave a career een teaching eet in ze future. What do you want to do?" Alison didn't give Harry the opportunity to answer before she continued. "My Mama and Papa zink zat I am right in zat, at least, zough zat is all zey zupport me een." The girl sighed, and seemingly focused on the boy in front of her once again, before realising that she had been renting for quite some time, and her face turned the colour of the tomato on her plate. "But zat eez uneemportant..." The girl was suddenly nervous, and Harry was beginning to get a headache from the confusing behaviour she displayed. He separated himself from the situation in an attempt to figure the strange behaviour out.

It wasn't just Alison that was behaving strangely. Lots of girls seemed to be directing annoyed looks towards the French girl. But why? She was chatty, sure, but what was she doing to get so many people riled up? She wasn't being unnecessarily loud, nor was she being offensive. He supposed her being at the Slytherin table might be somewhat aggravating to the more bigoted members of his house, and maybe those of Beaubaxtons had a problem with her socialising with him; but that didn't explain the anger from Durmstrang, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Nor the amused looks that Flitwick, as well as several other Professors, was directing towards him. As Harry met his eyes, the diminutive Professor grinned in return. Harry turned his attention to the other looks that somehow struck him as significant. The Veela girl he had saved was glaring daggers into her fellow's back, but flashed a charming grin at Harry as she noticed him looking. The chaser trio over at the Gryffindor table had identical looks of... outrage? Well, that was weird. The twins were next to them, slowly edging away, with uneasy expressions, bordering on fearful. What did they know that Harry didn't? Even _Dumbledore_ had an amused smile as he observed Harry's confusion growing, knowing what was going through his head as he actually took time to see the looks that were constantly directed at him. Albus wasn't, however, happy at the look of outrage and jealousy the-boy-who-lived was giving to Harry. That... anger couldn't lead anywhere good. Despite being brought up pampered and happy, Thomas Potter didn't display the kindness that should have been ingrained into him from his parents. The Headmaster turned to give a meaningful look to the non-Potter Auror captain, having talked to Sirius at length on the subject, but found him looking on proudly at the Slytherin table.

_Flashback- two nights prior._

_Albus Percivel Wulfric Brian Dumbledore looked up from the stack of papers he had been sorting through as he felt the alerting rune let him know someone was approaching his office._

"_Come in, Sirius." He called to the head of house Black. The door swung open as the animagus stepped through, shaking his head in befuddlement._

"_Is there any reason to ask how you do that?" The supreme mugwump's eyes simply twinkled merrily in response. "Didn't think so." Albus' traditional happiness shifted to curiosity as Sirius hesitated at the end of his statement._

"_What is the matter, Sirius?" The Headmaster kindly asked. The grim-animagus let out a weary sigh before he responded._

"_It's James and Lily, sir."_

"_What about them?" Albus asked cautiously. The pair had some quite serious problems as of late. He glanced at the reason behind their problems, sat on the corner of his desk, and frowned at the rather nasty comments Reeta Skeeter had made about the Potter parents._

**Hogwarts plays host to a horde of Potters**

**As you, my loyal readers, know well by now, the famed family of the 'boy-who-lived' is far from the perfect persona we were shown for so long**

**while they were in the public eye. Lord and Lady Potter were shown to be far from perfect parents of a fabulous family a little under a decade ago**

**to this very day. After months of avoiding the public eye (very unlike their usual policy of embracing their child, Thomas Potter's, fame)**

**the rumours began of a tragedy in the family. I, like many of you I am sure, was horrified by the possibility of more misfortune occurring**

**to the heroic family so soon after they lost the famous retired Auror pair in Charlus and Emily Potter (the current Lord's parents), but soon**

**found my sympathy was unfounded. The Potters had committed a horrific crime in the eyes of this witch at least. The neglect of one child**

**while so greatly favouring another is a disgusting act, I am sure you all would agree, even if the-boy-who-lived was the favoured. And how, I hear**

**many of you asking, could the wizarding world's hero allow this to happen to his big brother? Surely his supposed selflessness would prevent such**

**neglect from being bestowed upon young Harry? Well, my friends, that expectation was proven unfounded in the child-hero's first year. **

**He carried out verbal attacks and abuse on his older brother throughout the other boy's third year, and had Harry not had such close friends to **

**defend him, he may have succeeded in turning the school against the Slytherin Potter. As it was, he ended up alienating his peers until the end of year,**

**when the well-respected Headmaster awarded him and his friends a massive amount of points for a spectacular adventure in rule-breaking. You may**

**remember my own comments accusing Dumbledore of going senile in encouraging such dangerous behaviour.**

**Now, in Harry Potter's 6****th**** year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the entire family that treated him so poorly is joining him. Unfortunately**

**I was unable to secure an interview with young Harry to find his opinion on the matter, but hope to get an audience with the Potter heir later in the year, while I am in **

**Hogwarts for the Triwizard tournament. I hope to find out more details in just how horrible Lily and James Potter were in the art of parenting, in order to give we,**

**the people of Wizarding Britain, an honest view of their family. And to destroy the lie that we have been fed regarding them and their famous son**

**being the ****_perfect_**** family I reccomend that you watch the the later issues of ****_The Prophet_****to find out more.**

_**Rita Skeeter**_

_**PG 3. The-boy-who-lived's story. The Death of Charlus and Emily Potter.**_

_**PG 5. The fame showered on the Potters as the-boy-who-lived was celebrated.**_

_**PG 7. The Greengrasse family and Harry.**_

_Granted, it was far less than she had said about them in earlier issues, but it reopened old wounds for the pair._

"_Lily has been trying to talk to Harry since the year started, but apparently he's been avoiding her as much as possible. The same as James, me and Remus last year." Sirius shook his head guiltily. "But Lily's less capable of bearing that. It's killing her to see that Harry hates her..." He locked pleading eyes on the Headmaster. "Is there any chance..."_

"_Of forgiveness?" Albus asked. "After a decade of hating them, Sirius, I doubt that he will be able to simply forgive and forget."_

"_There must be a way, sir! I... I hate seeing them like this." He looked to the Headmaster and saw a glimmer of something in his eyes. "What is it? What can I do?"_

"_I _think_ there is a way, Sirius." The chief Warlock nodded slowly. "But be warned Harry may not take to kindly to it if you go about asking them in the wrong way."_

"_Asking who in the wrong way?" Dumbledore looked back expectantly at Padfoot. "You mean... Yes, you're right about that for sure. Will you tell me how to ask them?"_

"_No... I think that should be up to you to find out."_

-(_)(())(_)-

"It's always really quiet in here." Harry commented, looking around the less-comfortable common room.

"That's because people are studying." Caroline replied, looking up from her book.

"How do you all study this much though? No one ever practises spells in here, and how much theory can you really study before it just becomes redundant?" The girl looked back with a slight frown. "Right, right. Saying that's like blasphemy in the Ravenclaw house. Jasmine isn't studying."

"No, she's asleep. That's not exactly exciting, is it?" The girl was slumped on the table the three were sat at; while Daphne and Tracy had a Muggle Studies double, with her multi-coloured hair splayed over the book she had been reading as she snored lightly. The noise was getting her a few dirty looks as her fellow 'claws tried to study.

"Nor is studying." Harry retorted. "C'mon it's a really nice day; can't we go outside and do _something_?"

"Harry," Caroline began in a whisper yell. "We're in our NEWT years now. We can't afford to waste time procrastinating!"

"We're in 6th year." Harry rolled his eyes. "What are you even studying? We've learned next to nothing of the curriculum."

"We can still read ahead!" The blonde defended. "Not everyone gets straight Os in their OWLs without studying."

"Please. You would have gotten the same as me even if you hadn't studied religiously. And do you really need to read ahead 2 years in advance? Wouldn't that make you overly confident in the future; meaning you won't take the lessons as seriously?" Harry smirked as Caroline opened her mouth and closed it again, looking annoyed at the logic. "Now, c'mon." He closed her book and stood up, stretching briefly before he noted more _looks_ being directed at him. He nudged Jasmine to wake her, and the three left the tower

-()-

"Caroline!" A girl's voice called out, as the three were approaching the lake. The trio turned to the source, and saw 4 female Beaubaxton students approaching them, the elder Delacour daughter foremost amongst them.

Again, Harry noted the familiar, yet strange, looks that the girls were shooting at him far in a far-from-subtle way. Was it... fondness? But why would they be fond of him? He had yet to talk to any of them. The closest he had come was when he helped Fleur's family in the summer, but that had just been talking with her father, Sebastian, who was less than friendly to Harry for some reason..

"Hi Fleur," Caroline responded, though with significantly less enthusiasm than the French girl, as Fleur and her group grew close to the trio. Likewise, Jasmine gave an unfriendly look to the crowd of girls. "What's up?"

"We were going to look around ze school, as we are 'aving lessons in ze castle and do not want to be lost on our first day."

"That's a good idea." Caroline commented. "Where are you looking first?"

"We were 'oping your 'andsome friend could show uz around." One of them commented, not looking away from Harry as she gave a dazzling smile. One that earned her a confused look from Harry.

"And you are..." Caroline growled in return.

"Aimee." She smirked at the English girl.

"Sorry, _Aimee_, but Harry is spending time with us at the moment." Jasmine weighed in, disliking the girl on principle.

"And what eez eet zat 'e's doing wiz you? Somezing prezzing?" A different girl weighed in, smiling deviously.

"He's... We're spending some time next to the lake." Jasmine said hesitantly.

"Well, can you not do zat some ozzer time? We 'ave need of 'im now."

"'And why can't you find another person to show you around? There are plenty around that would jump at the chance, I'm sure." The as of yet silent girl gained an evil, for there was no better word, expression, and shot a look at Fleur.

"Oh, but 'o could we trust to be in Fleur's prezence ozzer than 'er... 'ow do you say... le Fia-mph." The Veela's hand slapped around her friend's mouth, and she hastily announced, with her accent growing in intensity from the panic.

"Zorry to bozzer you, we will find zomeone elze!" She drug her friend off, while the other two followed, laughing and taunting in French; though what they were saying was lost to Harry as his two friends cast a _muffliato_ on him. Once they took it off, the others being too far gone to hear what was said, he voiced his curiosity.

"What was that about, Jaz? Car?" The two looked away, _slightly _guilty about the secrecy, and began walking towards the lake at a brisk pace. "Hey! Hey wait up!"

-(_)(_)(_)-

The next weeks were largely more of the same, and soon enough found Harry watching, amused, along with the rest of the schools, as the first entry to the talent show came onto the stage.

'Merlin. Who knew that the _Wizarding _world had Rappers.' He thought to himself, cringing at the terrible attempt. 'If you can call _this_ Rapping anyway. And why does _Dumbledore_ have to be a judge?!' The others had long since called for the _performers_ to stop, but Dumbledore was bobbing along to the terrible music while everyone else begged for it to end. Eventually it did, and it was made clear by the fact that they earned a score of 8/50 that the group would not be proceeding.

Next up was an act that was significantly more shocking, and to most enjoyable, than the one before. This time around, Karkaroff and Bagman were responsible for the act lasting longer than the 3 would have allowed otherwise.

Harry could practically hear Mcgonogall assigning detentions to her own house' 7th years as they began... removing their clothes in a sensual fashion. The elder Potter noted, with a smirk, that his _brother_ and the youngest Weasley male had nose bleeds watching the attractive girls of their house disrobe. Harry had to admit that he, too, enjoyed the spectacle; and he could have sworn that the 'performers' had looked at him far more than made sense by the end of their show, having reduced a good number of their male viewers, none of whom had seen a strip show before, little more than piles of goo.

Showing the perverted nature of two of the judges, the girls got a score of 25; with Dumbledore not willing to give less than a 3, even if he was uncomfortable with the performance.

Next up was a decent enough demonstration of acrobatics and tight-rope walking. A couple of muggleborns that had clearly seen a show of it over the summer before. They got slightly more than the strippers at 33; nobody being angered by the _audacity_ of a circus show like they were in the previous performance.

A couple of singers that were far from spectacular, but nothing headache-induing followed as performers before the first interesting, at least interesting and clothed, performers came onto stage.

A pair of 5th year girls from Durmstrang; identical twins it seemed, came out dressed in matching outfits and drew their wands. The pair bowed in perfect synchronisation, and with exaggerated gestures began a show-duel. Harry, and he guessed a very few others, noted that they even moved the same and, more surprisingly, their wands were almost identical. As far as he knew, that wasn't a common trait even in twins.

Harry couldn't help chuckling as he noticed the expressions on Hogwarts' resident twins as they stared, open mouthed, at the display in front. With a quick motion, Harry pulled a camera from midair, and snapped a shot of the Weasleys, sure that it would be _useful_ in the future.

The judges announced a brief interval as the next set of performers prepared.

-(_0_)-

Harry was torn. He _really_ wanted to laugh. But it seemed slightly unfair to his head of house; given that the pale man was rapidly reddening, from anger, at the display the orange haired twins were giving, taking advantage of the stage to demonstrate their class-clownishness.

The two had demonstrated their admittedly impressive skills in transfiguration or something of the sort, and were now dancing a jig on stage. That was far from the eye-catching feature of their performance, however, as the two were currently dressed in billowing cloaks, skin even paler than their family's customary shade, and hair long, dark and greasy. Even the hooked nose had been captured rather well; all in all a pair of convincing Snapes were embarrassing themselves in front of the three schools, as their genuine counterpart all but frothed at the mouth from his rage. However, whether that was due to the two morons on stage or the two guffawing off to the side, dressed in their auror robes, Harry did not know. But if he were to bet, he'd say that aurors Black and Potter were the responsible party.

Soon enough, the two's display ended, and they were replaced by more mundane acts, some being fancy displays of magic, some singers, and some muggle skills, but none of any particular note to Harry. Especially since none of his friends had decided to enter the mini tournament. This _was_ just the first bracket, the 6th year shrugged mentally, it would hopefully have some more good acts.

-()-(_)-()-

"Tracy! Tracy Davis, wait!" A man's voice called out, jogging after the girl as she began to descend the steps into the dungeon, having gone to the bathroom and telling her friends not to wait. It was the middle of the day, so Harry and Daphne had felt Tracy was safe enough in the short walk from the toilet to their common room. The brunette turned to face her caller, and frowned visibly as she saw one of her many relatives, through her pureblood heritage, though she had long since forgotten _how_ exactly they were related, come jogging up to her. She wasn't particularly happy with Sirius Black.

"What do you want?" She asked, skipping any small talk.

"Oh... Ah, you see..." The head of house Black hesitated, before steeling himself. "I need to ask you for a favour."

"A favour?" Tracy didn't like the sounds of that. "What do you want?"

"Well, it's not _exactly_ a favour for _me_."

"Then who is it for?" She narrowed her eyes at the long haired man.

"J-Just one of my friends." He stammered slightly.

"One of your friends? So a _marauder_?" Tracy growled at the animagus; the little group was not in her, nor any of the girl's, good books.

"Well... yes."

"Then I'm going to have to say _no_."

"You haven't even heard the request!" He exclaimed. Sirius had been keeping track on her using the map, it was less than convenient for him to chase her down once he found her dot.

"I don't have to! We've all made it _clear_ that we dislike you!" Tracy yelled right back, quickly losing her temper with the auror.

"I get that! I do! But if you could just _talk_ to Harry about maybe reconciling with his paren-"

"Parents?! _They_ are not his parents! Parents love and care for their children! Parents would give their lives for them! They wouldn't leave their kids so starved for love that they don't understand what a hug is at 10 YEARS OLD!" Tracy's eyes were watering at the memories her own small rant had brought up. Memories of the time her parents had _perished_.

Sirius had the decency to look guilty himself, even if he was far from responsible, and he slowly nodded.

His best bet would be Harry, after all. After all, he had cared enough to save his godfather's life at the very least. Looking at the angry, sad, and outraged expression on his younger relative's face, he wasn't sure if she would do the same.

-(_)(_)(_)(_)-

That night, far away, screams pierced the air as the Death Eaters forces expanded their horizons, allying themselves with an up and coming Dark Lord with a very similar agenda to their temporarily fallen master, embracing the bigots with open arms. They were currently gathering around an unguarded, yet high profile, target.

This would announce to everyone in Wizarding Europe that their war on Mudbloods had not ceased. They had just taken a short break to lull them all into a false sense of security. Now, they had moved from England and would cleanse the population of the entire world; before their master returned and ruled with an iron fist.

Plus, this way they didn't have to deal with the Headmaster of the British equivalent of their target. None would stand a chance against Albus Dumbledore.

They finished the little planning the group was inclined to do, and began their approach. The 50 dark wizards were all dressed in the uniform of Voldemort's Death Eaters, and the sight of such a crowd would strike fear into the hearts of the students of Beaubaxtons.

As one, the small army raised their wands, and began the assault on the extensive wards, another section of the crowd setting up their own; preventing escape through any of the usual means, namely Apparation, Floo or Portkey.

As they began, alerting wards rang through the castle, effectively waking the entire castle in an instant. Throughout the dormitories, the male and female students shot up, many panicked and screaming as they forgot the limited number of drills they had been given in the face of a very real danger. For this year, the vast majority of students that had remained in the smaller-than-Hogwarts castle were underage, and ill equipped for fighting Dark Wizards.

The teachers prepared to do what they could, but given that the security offered to the school had been taken along with the Triwizard procession there was little chance of fighting them off. All that they could hope was that they could save the children, or some of them, anyway.

500 miles away, a pair of Avada Kedavra green eyes snapped open, a sapphire blue symbol shining on Harry Potter's cheek adjacent to glowing orbs, the 6th year shot to his feet, and vanished from his bedroom, leaving silence behind in his wake.

**Again, hope you enjoyed the chapter. Sorry 'bout the cliffhanger... well, not really, or I wouldn't have ended it with one.**

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	7. Beauxbatons Academy

**Here's another chapter; quite an eventful one, in fact.**

**I own nothing you recognise.**

**By the way, I'll now respond to reviews that seem to need a response; it's difficult and time consuming to respond to all of them. Sorry if this annoys anyone. (I said sorry here, too. You'll get this at the end-note)**

**I'm going to add an apology to anyone with a French accent in here; just in case I manage to insult anyone unintentionally.**

**(I have just realised I've misspelt Beauxbatons incorrectly a lot, so I'll correct that at some point.)**

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"Haha! Look at the kiddy dance! Look at the Kiddy DANCE!" A masked man, with a nasally voice cackled as he jabbed his wand at the squirming 2nd year, a silencing charm, applied earlier, preventing the boy from screaming from the duress he was under. The torture was taking place near the remnants of the boy's school; the attackers had, to add insult to injury, destroyed the castle with a barrage of _Bombarda_s and _Reducto_s.

No older than 13; yet the barely teen aged boy was under the Cruciatus. Even some of the man's fellows, specifically those that believed in the protection of Purebloods but had joined up without the sadism that was present in this particular man, were uncomfortable with the sick pleasure he was displaying in the act. They half expected him to have wood.

"Dance you little Shit! Dance you MUDBLOOD!" He screeched at the agonized student, as the boy shook and defecated from the pain; increasing his torturer's pleasure further at the sight of what he had caused.

The only professor remaining in the fight; a middle-aged man renowned in France for being a certified champion of duelling, intervened at this point, unable to stand the sight of such cruelty to one of his students; especially one so young. A blue arc f light flew from his wand, and struck the torturing man in the bicep.

Another screech ran through the night as the dark wizard felt his entire right arm, the one holding his wand, in fact, was encased in ice; the coldness _burning_ his skin as the spell engulfed his arm. The sight briefly inspired hope from those that were being attacked, only for them to realise what this spell had indirectly caused.

The Duelist had sacrificed his position engaged in two others, a third already felled by his hand, in order to help his student. They watched horror stricken as their only hope was caught in the back by a killing curse, and his eyes went blank as he slumped to the ground.

The celebrating increased further from those Dark-Lord followers that had finished their fights before now, as they gathered up the ones they had picked off, holding them under various curses and hexes to prevent the students and teachers from fleeing before they were _done_.

Beaubaxtons had only been accepting male students for a single generation; explaining the fact that so many more were female. That, unfortunately, was a good thing in the eyes of Death Eaters. It meant that they had now gained very nice spoils, and they had no problem claiming what was theirs here in the fields of France.

Spurred on by the final teacher falling, the rest of the Death Eaters stepped up their game, breaking through and overpowering the 6th and 7th year students quickly enough; though in several cases the dark wizards had to gang up on the younger wizards, seeing as the servants of Dark Lords tended to be of a rather low calibre. Cannon fodder effectively.

Just as the creeps were about to claim their prizes for a job well done, however, the ground shook.

"Hey, do you guys hear that?!" One of the newer recruits called out, panic in his high voice.

"Never mind hear, do you guys _feel_ that?!" Another responded; trying to maintain his balance. "What the hell is-" The man fell silent, his hand snapping up to his chest as his knees buckled.

"Tony?!" The first called, shock rising and fear intruding at the thought of something going wrong. "Tony! What's wrong?!"

The rumbling grew louder, as the source approached the dark wizards rapidly. By this point it was not just the new recruits that were feeling fear constrict and their nerves fail; the vast majority of the bunch were cowards; and there was no chance that they would be hit by an earthquake in a magical area; it just didn't happen. That meant there was another reason, and even they arrived at the conclusion that it was bad news.

They had an inkling as to who was here. They were wrong, of course, but the conclusion they came to terrified the majority of the dark wizards.

Who would care to intervene? Who would be ale to get through the anti-apparation wards? And who of them would _dare_?

Their master.

Tom Marvelo Riddle. Better known as Lord Voldemort, the greatest Dark Lord of their time.

He had not given them permission to attack the school. Was he alive? Had he somehow heard of tonight's activity? If so, they were _dead_.

Another fell to the ground, silent other than a whisper of shock as he reached for his chest. With a thud, he fell to the ground.

The next died more painfully. A quiet _thunk_ and a hole appeared, in the centre of his forehead.

"What in Morgana's name?" One dark wizard whispered, seeing the gleaming stone that had exited the wound. He bent to pick it up, noting that it was a steel pebble, before the rock changed.

It grew massively; becoming a boulder as opposed to the minuscule rock, and crushed the man's arm under it's new-found weight.

"Ahhh!" He cried, futilely attempting to roll the rock off him as the bone and sinew was flattened in a horrible flash of pain. "H-Help me!" He demanded of a fellow that happened to be near.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_." Was the other's response, as he gestured extravagantly with his wand, and the metal slowly rose from it's position pinning and crippling his companion.

Letting out a whimper, the floored Death Eater moved his undamaged hand to his mangled one, and sobbed once; not paying attention to the floating hazard. A mistake.

The levitating dark wizard heard a _squawk _and looked up, moving his attention slightly from what he was doing. He saw a raven diving straight at him, and furrowed his eyebrows behind the mask; befuddled at what this meant. Ravens were commonly known to be a bad omen.

Then, he saw that it was not an ordinary bird. On the visible breast of the avian, a strange symbol shone. The 'Eater didn't recognise it from his days of Ancient Runes; but he wasn't the most intelligent man in the world; so that didn't surprise him.

The man raised his free hand as the bird approached, it seemed intent to attack him for some unknown reason, and so he would bat the pest away.

As his hand struck out, the bird let out another _squawk_, followed by a muffled _BOOM_ and the man's upper body vanished in a flash of orange flames. The legs remained upright for several seconds, before teetering over.

The boulder dropped, and with a _crunch_ the whining Death Eater was flattened.

The others were thrown into panic as angry _chirps _ran through the field around them; they had seen what was done to their fellow when he was attacked by that bloody bird. In their fright, half simply turned and ran, the others realizing they had a better chance of survival by standing strong and fighting back.

As a flock of the runed ravens appeared, the symbols glowing in the dark sky, the group began throwing spells at the animals, the birds exploding before they could get close enough to do damage to their targets. The group had their heads tilted back, staring into the sky to catch sight of any incoming bomber birds. This left them completely open from the flank, and the fact that they had gathered into a group fr defensive purposes made it even easier to capitalise on the fools' incompetence.

The rumbling and shaking returned. But the students, and the remaining teachers, were the only ones to notice that this time felt different. Like the feel that would accompany a herd of cattle charging. Or, of course, several dozen bulls.

The rampaging animals, save the final in the charge, had no runes this time; able to do the damage with the natural gifts they had been given, unlike the birds. The brown hide mammals were charging in a semi-organised formation, coming from the other side of the castle as they were magically herded. Had the 'Eaters looked back, they would have had time to move out of the way with ease; explaining the distraction in the form of another flock of birds, though had they looked closely the dark wizards would have noticed that the glow was in a very different shape to the exploding avians they had been dealing with up until now. But, of course, they didn't have any reason to think that the new rune was only there so that they _wouldn't_ turn back and notice the incoming stampede.

As the rampaging animals approached, a fist sized rock landed between the attackers and their would-be victims, the rune glowing a brilliant blue as it rolled to a stop.

The rock exploded into a brilliant light; the equivalent of a super-charged flash bang, and blinded the already traumatised students and their teachers, preventing them from seeing what came next.

With no difficulty, the horde of animals caught the attackers off guard, and slammed into the back of the 25-odd wizards; the bulls' horns dealing with the first to be hit, while the thorough trampling shattered the chests and/or skulls of their fellows that they had covered.

Following the Death Eaters being put down, the final in the herd of bulls stopped in the middle of the group of corpses and his rune brightened. In an instant, the bovine animal was engulfed in brilliant red flames, that jumped from him seconds later, hopping to the nearest bodies while ignoring the area other than the flesh-made beings. The bodies were quickly reduced to ash, as the fire swarmed over them and, as the peoples' vision recovered, there was no evidence of the dark wizards after this. Well, none other than the memories that the teachers would give to their ministry once the incident was investigated.

The group, their sight now restored, shrank back slightly at the sight that next presented itself. An animal... a _beast_ charged through the clearing; the coat barely standing out as darker than the rest of the night around it, while the ivory teeth gleamed in the moonlight. The big cat moved peculiarly silently, for it's size, as it flew through the field in pursuit of the other 'Eaters.

Terror was evident in the screams as it caught up with the fleeing wizards, giving them enough time to exclaim from shock, but ending them before they had a chance to so much as draw their wands. The massive canines punctured arteries and vital organs in a display of why it was an apex predator.

However, a single man; the leader of this raid and the infamous wizard known so far as incendie-voluntaire, for his affinity for Arson in France, escaped the beast's wrath, in a manner similar to the attack.

An average size antelope burst from the treeline on the end of that clearing, and rushed towards the cowering group, heading in particular for a small crowd of 4th year girls. Of course, this didn't strike any of them as particularly sinister. What would the herbivore do to them, after all. But the breath-taking roar that followed _did_. That resulted in more than one of the younger students having an... accident as it nearly deafened them.

The form of the massive cat that broke free of the wilderness, in pursuit of what seemed to be it's prey, added greatly to the fear and awe that came from the intimidating roar. The black cat was heading for the crowd this time, giving them a better view of it as many of them scrambled backwards, in an effort to get away from the hate-filled emerald eyes.

The eyes, though, were not fixed upon them, but on the antelope that had now reached the girls, who were under the impression that his gaze was fixed on them, and so were, in fear, whimpering into each other as they hugged their friends tightly.

Their nerves weren't helped by the next occurrence.

The chased herbivore had changed tact as it shifted back into the 'Dark Lord' that was looking to ally himself with Voldemort, who seized one of the schoolgirls by the throat, and with his other hand pressed his wand against her throat.

"Change back!" He screamed in French at the predator in front, who responded with a snarl. "Change back or I swear to God I'll _fucking kill her_!" The tip pressed into the vulnerable flesh harder, and the girl let out a soft sob as tears ran down her face. "Shut up you little bitch!" He growled at her.

The massive Smilodon stopped, sitting on his hindquarters with as hateful a look as his face was capable of directed at the disgusting wizard. The creature reared back, and stood on his back legs. In an instant, the feline had shifted into his own natural form; a tall, muscular teen standing in the stead of the monstrous cat. The still glowing emerald orbs narrowed as Harry Potter flicked his wrist and a wand, with the black, red and white spirals running up the length, appeared in his hand from the hidden holster on his wrist.

"Ah, ah! None of that!" The wizard called; the tip of his wand glowing a harsh orange as he did. "Toss your wand off to the side kid!"

With a grunt of displeasure, Harry threw his wand off to the side as the hostage whimpered as her fear increased.

"Now who the fuck do you think you are kid?!" The 40-odd Dark Lord asked angrily. He received silence as his answer. "TELL ME! Who do you think you are to mess with _me_?! WHO?!" He tossed the girl to the side, casually, and centred his wand on the insulting wizard that dared threaten him. Harry raised his hand at the same time, and a strange symbol glowed on the palm.

"That was dumb, friend." Harry spoke in French. "You were only alive because of her. _Diffindo!_" A bolt of light slammed into Incendie-Voluntaire's chest. The man's chest was sliced open, and he stumbled back with a shocked expression. "_Reducto!_" In his shocked state at the wandless magic; the man didn't manage to throw up a shield, and paid the price as the now visible chest-plate was obliterated by the spell. He fell onto his ass, and the light went out in the 'Dark Lord's eyes.

Harry flicked his wrist again, and his discarded wand returned to his hand. He quickly sheathed it again before casting a scourgify on his blood cover mouth and turning to the crying girl that had been held captive, a series of diagnosive spells quickly being cast on her to check her for injuries.

As he turned to the others, intending to do the same, he found himself on the receiving end of an odd experience.

He'd yet to be thanked for stuff like _this_, after all.

(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)

"Sorry I'm late Professor." Harry said, as he walked into the dungeon classroom. "I was told to give you this." He handed a note to the Snape before taking his seat.

"R-Right." The Potions teacher responded, blinking owlishly at the note. "The instructions are on the board. You may begin." He flicked his wand at the blackboard and disappeared into his attached office with a swirl of his cloak.

"What was _that_ about?" Tracy asked, from her seat next to Harry, while Jasmine doodled on his other side.

"I assume he went to call the Headmaster." Harry responded with a yawn. "Then, the Headmaster will call the Beauxbatons headmistress. Who will confirm my story." He added, and waited for 20 seconds. "And then Snape will be told to send me up to Dumbledore's office." They only had to wait for a few minutes before the door to the other room opened once more and a more-pale-than-usual Snape strode back in.

"Class is over! You're dismissed!" He barked at the surprised NEWT students. "Potter, you're to come with me to see the Headmaster!" Without waiting for Harry to respond, the man slunk out of the classroom at a remarkable speed.

-(_)()(_)-

5 minutes later the Slytherin Head of Year and his 6th year prefect arrived at the gargoyle guarding the Head-Teacher's office, and with a quick password of "Blood-Pops" they were allowed entrance.

As the two ascended the staircase, Harry's trepidation of this _meeting_ grew. He knew he couldn't be charged with anything, given that the French were _thrilled_ with Harry's intervention; the gratitude certainly not being hurt by the fact that their minister's daughter had been the one that the Arson-Dark-Lord had taken hostage. They had pardoned him immediately for the justified homicide, and had decided to give him what he gathered was their version of the order of Merlin at the earliest opportunity.

That, however, didn't prevent him from getting a bloody _lecture_ from the Headmaster. That would be real annoying. If only the bastard dark wizard hadn't made him change back, he would have been perfectly capable of hiding his involvement in the entire affair.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Harry heard Dumbledore calmly call out from his office, having been alerted by the wards around his door.

"Come in, Severus." The door swung open, and the two stepped through. Harry certainly wasn't prepared for what happened next.

"Urgh!" Was the noise made by Harry Potter as he was pulled into a hug, with his feet dangling almost 6 feet from the ground. The Headmistress of Beauxbatons was very large and, with that, very strong.

Madame Maxine babbled incoherent thanks in her native tongue as she nearly crushed her children's saviour's ribs. The headmistress, like Dumbledore, cared deeply for her charges. She would give her life to protect the children in an instant; of that there could be no doubt. That this student had managed to protect them... she could not repay such a debt. Not that Harry would expect a debt to be repaid.

"Ribs... hurt..." Harry gasped out. The half-giant let out a _squeal_ of surprise that she was hurting him, and dropped the elder Potter to the ground.

"I am zo zorry!" She exclaimed, panicking. Harry rubbed his ribs as he responded.

"It's fine, no damage done." He said with a charming smile, assuring the French woman of his health and well-being. Composing herself, Maxine began again.

"Meester Potter, I cannot exprezz the gratitude that I az well az y staff 'ave for your selflezz actionz lazt night." She said, nobly. "Pleaze know zat we are eternally grateful for zis, and zat I 'ave told my studentz zat zey should give you zeir zanks." To this, Harry let out a groan. "What? What iz eet?" She asked, worriedly.

"It's nothing... just, they seem to talk to me a lot already, for reasons I don't understand, and I'm guessing this will simply increase their interest."

"You do not underztand?" She asked, sceptical. She had seen the way that girls looked at him, not that she could blame them, and was extremely doubtful that he could not realise the motive when they were so... _obvious_ about it. She looked to Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow, and found his eyes twinkling merrily at Harry's annoyed frown. "'Ow can zat be? Are teenage males not normally very familiar wiz zis subject?" They tended to be in France, at least.

"They are in general, yes. Young Harry, here, seems to be quite a unique case in this subject." Dumbledore clearly knew more, but the half-giant got the impression that he would tell her later of Harry's _uniqueness_.

"Harry, my boy..." Dumbledore began, intending to give the expected lecture to the 16 year old.

"Save it, Headmaster." Harry said bluntly. "I'm not glad that I killed them, but I'd do it again in the circumstances. You _will_ fail if you try to make me feel guilty about putting down rapists and murderers." The Headmaster frowned at the statement, but he had heard this argument many times before. Moody, for example, saw no reason to spare dark wizards. Harry's 'family' was not one of the crop that agreed with his policy regarding taking lives; and based on Harry's childhood, Dumbledore knew this would be a battle he was doomed to lose. Besides, the other 3 in the room would side with Harry in this regard. Though Karkaroff may be uneasy with the prospect, the old man supposed.

"Very well, Harry." He sighed, wearily. "I don't suppose that you will need the counselling we offer for such events?"

"No, sir."

"Well then," The Headmaster began. "I would suggest you head to your next class, Harry. Then you probably aught to get what sleep you can before tonight, it is the day to enter the tournament, after all." The boy nodded, and left the office promptly. "Now, Olympe, I believe that you have some questions?" He smiled at the large woman.

"Oui, Dumbleedoor. Why do you say zat 'Arry is 'unique'" The half-giant queried. Albus sighed once more at the question, debating whether to tell the tale to the woman, and even more so whether he should allow Karkaroff to hear..

"Very well," The powerful wizard waved his wand, and conjured a trio of comfortable seats in front of his desk. "Please sit, this will be a long, and unpleasant, story, so please refrain from too many interruptions." He took a breath as he thought where to start.

"It all begun around 12 and a half years ago. I do not know if you know this, but young Harry's last name is Potter." Maxine and Karkaroff opened their mouths to ask the obvious question. "Yes, as in the brother of the-boy-who-lived, who you know is a student here also."

All three listeners muttered unsavoury comments about the famed 4th year at this point, having had less than pleasant interactions with him over the month and a half they had been at Hogwarts. And, in Snape's case occurrences that inspired outright hatred for the arrogant and ignorant boy.

"On that night, I'm given to believe that Voldemort was targeting Thomas, and had no reason to attack Harry; meaning that the boy was in his own room at the time. Of course, since those that would be able to remember it; Harry's grandparents and Voldemort, are no longer with us, there is no real way to know this for sure. Harry _was_ found unharmed in his bedroom, however, so it can be assumed that this is the case. Up until this point, the elder Potter had had a good childhood with a loving and caring family. It is a shame that the Potters let the fame of their youngest to get to their heads, and that they so wholly embraced the spotlight." He turned his gaze on the large woman in particular, who was listening with rapt attention. "They _neglected _him. They did not abuse him, I want to make that clear. But they gave his younger brother everything he asked for, while they left Harry to fend for himself. To the mind of a child, I suppose that going from fending for yourself in a home of people that ignored your existence would be _more_ hurtful than living on the streets and doing the same." Maxine had narrowed her eyes at this implication regarding her new favourite Englishman. "Harry did evidently believe this and decided to take action; I believe that it was after a particularly unpleasant Christmas where nobody so much as spoke to him through the day.

"I'm given to understand that his parents and brother did not even notice that he was not present at dinner, and so Harry ran away. He has not told me much of what happened next, but from the few meetings I had with him in first year, I have gathered the impression that he largely lived away from mankind." Now, her eyes widened, while Karkaroff had a similar, though more subdued expression and Snape was growling something under his breath; reminded of his own childhood. "While this would be a horrid fate for any other child; one they likely would not survive, Harry thrived. He arrived in better physical condition than I have ever seen in a wizard, and bear in mind that this was at the age of 11; he has only improved since, and with an abnormally large, albeit wild, core. Since then, Harry has stayed with the Greengrass family; a neutral family in the eyes of England, and has developed a close... friendship with their eldest daughter and the other wards they care for. You see, Lady Greengrass has had a habit of rescuing unfortunate children, and they voluntarily take care of Harry and 3 girls his age. They, I can assure you, have never neglected Harry, and, in fact care greatly for him." The half-giant woman had stopped frowning now, at least, and that relieved Albus.

"I highly doubt that you know this of Harry, but, along with being our top student, he has been more involved than most realise in the _events_ that have taken place since the-boy-who-lived arrived. While it is probably best for me not to go into detail, I can assure you that he is a wonderful boy, and that you have no need to fear for your students' safety concerning the Potter heir."

"I zink you mizunderstand Dumbly-door. I, for one waz not afraid of 'Arry. 'E 'as already rescued ze majority of my studentz, and I am 'appy zat 'e is 'ere in caze of anozzer incident."

"Very well, is there anything else you wished to discuss?" Dumbledore asked with a smile.

"Yes, Albus." Karkaroff responded gruffly. "Are you _sure_ of your defences regarding the cup?" The man was wary of what could happen should somebody tamper with the artefact. Anyone who's name came out was _bound_ to compete, after all.

"I am quite certain, Igor. As you know the students must have gotten permission and had their slip signed by one of the attendees; which are narrowed to myself, you, Olympe, Crouch, your respective deputies, Minerva and Alistor." Dumbledore responded reassuringly. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

-(_)(_)-

Later that night, after dealing with an uncomfortable feast, in which many people focused on him; he once more cursed the 'Dark Lord' for making him reveal himself, Harry approached the cup later than most stayed awake. They had the next day off from lessons, after all, in order to 'prepare' for the selection. He didn't understand what that meant, exactly, but gathered it had something to do with people being able to act gracious in the event they were not picked. Or to give anyone that got cold feet tonight the chance to regain their nerve.

Quickly writing his name on a scrap of paper, Harry Potter placed the entry into the goblet with confidence. He didn't particularly care one way or the other; but if the girls thought he would be champion, he was very much inclined to trust them. Just as he did on every other matter.

"Hmm..." He spoke aloud, glancing at the odd purple streak surrounding the magical artefact. "Well, I don't suppose it could hurt." The animagus knelt down next to the magical divide, and placed his index finger against the stone floor, a rune glowing on the tip as he did so.

Moving around the cup, Harry drew complex and, seemingly, invisible patterns on the floor with a remarkable speed, before he walked round it once more; checking he had not missed anything, and walked back out of the entrance hall; drawing his map as he went. It wouldn't do to get caught by the blasted caretaker out at this time of night.

-()-()-()-

Later that night, Harry was reclined in his bed, with a textbook sized book sitting in his hands. He gazed at the pages with a furrowed brow as he found the answer to one of the problems he had been pondering ever since he arrived at the wizarding institution.

This book was, for some reason, sitting in the restricted section of the library. Harry was unsure of _why_ they would keep it here, and even more why it would be deemed dangerous. Was it simply because Britain was so racist that they assumed whatever another species wrote had to be forbidden?

The title was unreadable to virtually _any_ human. Possibly any none of his species except for Harry himself could read this lettering.

In the Goblin tongue; unaffectionately deemed gobbledegook by wizards, the title read:

_The Courting and Mating Rituals of Humans_

_By SharpTongue: Scholar_

As he reached the end of this book, reading it very quickly, as is his way, Harry made a noise of understanding.

"So _that's_ what all the weird glances means." He stood and walked over to the full length mirror he had in his room, looking detachedly at himself for the first time. "So... does that mean I am _attractive_ by the standards of females?" He narrowed his eyes. "Well... I have a symmetry that is rather aesthetically pleasing, I suppose. Low body fat, without being unhealthy looking by being overly skinny; that's just good sense, we have the ability to retain fat for a reason. High muscle density and definition, while not being bulky and reducing speed. Tall, broad. That's... good? My hair... I don't know. What do girls find appealing regarding hair? What would _I_ find appealing regarding hair?" He questioned himself, before closing his eyes and looking for that snippet of information. What would _he_ find attractive.

"Hair... I'm unsure. I've never much paid attention to that. In terms of a female's body, as I only have an interest in the female gender, I would say... what? Healthy? Physically able? Compatible with my own? What is it that males would typically find appealing?" He sat on the edge of a chair, and gripped his skull with an annoyed groan. "I suppose I aught to figure _this_ out in terms of actual girls. Trying to understand it without the potential objects of affection present seems illogical." He muttered to himself, sighing wearily and rose, heading for his bed once more. "I need to return this to Tearjaw tomorrow, too. Along with my thanks that he actually let a human borrow one of his peoples' books. Even if it is not one they particularly value." He pushed the more confusing thoughts from his mind for the moment and was asleep when his head hit the pillow.

-()-

In the meantime; Albus Dumbledore, along with more than a few other teachers, the Aurors assigned, and some curious Hufflepuffs that happened to hear the commotion, was rushing to the Entrance Hall.

An unbelievably loud _BANG_ had rung through the castle, and while the majority of sleeping quarters were warded from noise well enough to shield the startling sound, it had been in close enough proximity to the 'Puffs to break thorough, and the teachers themselves had been alerted by various paintings.

This was _not_ one of the protections that Albus had put onto the Goblet. So what had caused such a racket?

He got his answer soon enough; when he reached the Hall; somehow managing this before any other, the aged Headmaster was greeted by a shocking sight. On the ground, there were a large number of runes glowing a startling blue, and a man lying flat on his back next to them. Next to the knocked out man, a magical eyeball and a fake leg rested, but the profile was _not_ that of Mad-Eye moody.

No, this was someone who, by all rights, should be dead.

"Barty Crouch Junior..." The white haired wizard mumbled, shock obvious, before he realised what he must have been doing down here; the powerful mind quickly reaching the logical conclusion. "The paper! Has he managed to enter the name?!"

**Does that count as another cliffhanger? If yes, then I'm sorry. Well... kind of sorry. Maybe I'm not sorry. So sorry for not being sorry. And sorry if I've said sorry too many times in this apology. Sorry. (See beginning note for another sorry)**

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	8. The Selection

**Well, here's another one.**

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_In the future, Harry Potter would wonder just how this bloody canyon was missed by the entire population of Wizarding Britain; now, though, that was the last thing on his mind._

_The figure was running. Running as though the devil himself was in pursuit._

_And, in a way, you could argue that was exactly right._

_The rapid clop-clop of hooves was clattering off behind the tiny male. Difficult to tell just how far, given the echoes that rang through the rocky chasm through which the raven haired human scampered._

_His heavy breathing made the fear coursing through Harry-used-to-be-Potter's veins as he ran from whatever _it_ was. He'd had far too many of these encounters in recent years to risk _hiding_ or slowing down. It would, no doubt, find him if he did._

_The child-wizard was dead on his feet._

Hell_, some people would just say he was dead._

_The runaway was long past exhausted; but it's remarkable what such adrenaline could do even for the body of a 6 year old. And that was all Harry was. A six year old wizard._

_He kept on running. _

_Running and tripping; then scrambling back to his feet and running once more._

_The youngling was slowing, though. His legs mangled by this point from the scrapes and bruises; accumulating to leave him close to crippled. On the other hand the creature was, if anything, growing faster._

Fear_ was gripping his heart. The future-prodigy's will was fading; how was an untrained wizard, without so much as a wand, survive a situation like this? Surely he wouldn't._

_That realisation came full force when Harry saw what was up ahead. The face of a cliff. _

_Not something to usually be feared, but the idea of outclimbing that thing was even more ridiculous than outrunning it. _

_The Devil had the hooves of a mountain goat, after all._

_-_-()-()-()-

'Well, that's less than ideal.' Harry commented to himself.

The Headmaster had just made the announcement that Alastor Moody had, through the year so far, been impersonated by a Death Eater by the name of Barty Crouch Junior. The students had been assured that they were safe, and that Mad-Eye himself was fine and would be taking charge of the Defence lessons as of Monday, as the day of the selection itself was a Friday.

It was odd that they had made this speech at lunchtime. Normally it would be made during dinner; especially since that day was Halloween and the feast was, even more than usual in an attempt to impress the visiting schools, going to be an extravagant affair. Of course, people were uneasy at the revelation that they'd been taught by a dark wizard throughout the school-year so far, but considering the crazy stuff that had happened constantly over the past 3 years, it was not altogether surprising. Dumbledore really seemed to be lapse on security; they'd have failed to find the real Moody had Auror Black not had a copy of 'the marauders map' on his person when they found the knocked-out figure of Crouch.

Even more shockingly, the ministry was actually acting. No doubt they had only sent the additional Aurors for the sake of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Though _why_ they thought sending _Dementors_ again was a good idea was beyond Harry and his friends.

Even as the other people were contemplating the dangers of having had a follower of the Dark Lord in Hogwarts; the main concern being the idea of such easy hunting for the child-killer, what if he had reverted back to his old ways of torturing anyone he could? If he had set traps in his classroom? If he had simply snapped and started using Avada Kedarvas at _first years_? What if he had poisoned the food? Ron Weasley and Thomas Potter had begun eating, paying no heed to that last possibility. Well, eating would be the polite term. The only way they could actually be any messier would be for them to open their mouths and begin slamming their faces on the various plates of food in hopes that they would ingest something or other. They were sort of smearing the food over their faces, and the Potter parents were casting their younger son disapproving frowns. James; because Thomas was the son of an Ancient and Noble house. Lily; because she was Thomas' mother, and did not like the, rather accurate, impression of a pig with opposable thumbs he was currently participating in. The red head couldn't help but compare hi and his brother at the moment. Harry, unlike his younger sibling, was eating in a fitting manner for a Potter. Admittedly, his plate was not balanced enough to satisfy Lily; there was a hell of a lot of meat on it, annoying his vegetarian _mother_ immensely, but at least he wasn't wasting the food spectacularly like her other son and his ever-hungry friend.

Currently sat at the Slythering table, with Caroline, Jasmine, Tracy and Daphne, Harry was unaware of his parents train of thought. No, Harry was focused on his own problems.

"Effing book." He cursed under his breath; blaming the Goblin writer for his current predicament. If he hadn't read the source of information, then his discomfort would be _far _lessened.

Finally, Harry was beginning to understand just why the males of Hogwarts, and more recently the other two schools as well, shot him dirty and jealous looks so often.

_Typically the interest in their preferred sex begins, for humans, upon the outset of puberty; as this is the point at which their hormones establish themselves and they discover the pleasures associated with mating... Upon finding a suitable partner, or one that they perceive as such, a male will typically engage in a rather ineffectual and illogical display of their prowess in various areas that they believe will impress their desired. Females, on the other hand, tend to, in my experience, believe that it is their potential mate's responsibility to approach them, and so will do what possible to give a mating 'signal' through furtive glances._

Had his hormones been in _stasis_ or something? This couldn't be natural, surely. Harry shook his head, trying to clear the demanding thoughts as he moved his attention away from the bountiful breasts of Jasmine, and the long legs of Daphne. Not to mention the full lips of Caroline, and the graceful curves all 4 had. He briefly thanked whatever deity there was that Tracy, in particular, was currently sat down and his attention could not be drawn to her rather enticing buttocks. What had he done to be subjected to this torture?

On top of the difficulty he had in regards to the girls he had just now truly noticed, Harry was rather uncomfortable with the many eyes he could feel on his body as he sat perfectly still; stretching, apparently, drew even more attention to him than he had to put up with already. Were these the _glances_ that Sharptongue spoke of in that summary? It was extremely uncomfortable, whether it was the glances or not.

-()()()()()-()()()()()()()-()()()()()-

'God damn it...' Harry moaned, silently, to himself as he sat at the side of the Entrance hall, on one of the many benches that had been set out for observers to watch the hopefuls enter their names into the goblet. He didn't much want to be there, but was less than happy to leave the girls alone now that he had realised just what the males leering at them meant. A cold glare quickly sent the pigs on their way, amusing Harry at the ease he could send them scampering. He presumed it was because he had yet to have a reason to scare the majority of the little shits through his time at Hogwarts that he'd only now discovered this particular talent.

His focus moved back onto the scene in front of him as a group of Hufflepuffs came rushing into the hall, roughousing a little as they pushed one in particular towards the centre. Harry noted that some attention moved onto the brown haired Hufflepuff as they entered the room. But was happy to see that none of his friends looked over at the pretty boy.

In fact, they mostly just looked bored.

Tracy was leaning against Harry's shoulder currently; brown hair splayed over it with her amber eyes closed as she lightly snored. Definitely bored.

Daphne was sitting statue-still with her legs crossed on Harry's other side; violet eyes watching impassively as the Hufflepuffs, Harry could almost hear her calling them '_idiot 'Puffs_', loudly proceed to the flaming goblet, and the pretty Slytherin scowled as a group of Hufflepuff 5th years let out a collective sigh when Diggory coolly place the strip of paper into the flames.

Caroline, unlike Tracy, was trying to remain conscious for the supposedly interesting activity of watching the various students enter the tournament. But her red fringe had, by now, covered the brown eyes and they were drooping closed.

Behind, Jasmine was braiding the crimson hair of her fellow Ravenclaw; she being the only one that was aide awake, though not focused at all on the Hufflepuffs. Her pine green eyes were focused on the task at hand, as she blew the multi-coloured strands of hair out of them. He knew that that was her pet peeve; her hair-dying potion from 1st year had gone wrong and previously the black hair had changed to every colour but the original.

As the 5 sat uninterested in the events unfolding, Harry noticed that one of the 'Puffs was approaching, a cocky swagger in his step. It wasn't one that he'd ever deemed worthy enough of note to remember his name, apparently, but the boy was in the year above Harry and the girls. Meaning he must have been a 7th year. Harry noted, with a barely restrained growl, that the boy shot a hungry gaze at Tracy's prone form.

"Chickened out, then, eh Potter?" The boy asked mockingly.

"'Chickened out'?" Harry queried back. "What do you mean?"

"Why else wouldn't you be puttin' your name in the goblet? You must've realised you aren't _all that._" He said with what Harry guessed was _supposed_ to be an intimidating glare. It was a pathetic attempt, but the boy did his best.

"All what?"

"What all the idiots of this school think you are. The so-called 'prodigy'!" He exclaimed, laughing slightly at the end of his statement.

"Oh, I am a prodigy, yes." Harry nodded, not catching the sarcasm; this was, in fact,the truth. Why would he think that the suggestion was mocking? "My OWLs were 'off the charts' according to the letter they gave me." The boy's eyes narrowed, for some reason unknown. Well, unknown to Harry. Other people would note that Harry's words could have come across as slightly full of himself.

"Bullshit! You're a coward, that's what you are!" The unnamed boy yelled.

"How do you figure that I'm a coward?" Harry questioned, not aware of anything that would suggest him being afraid of... well just about anything. Had he been afraid, he wouldn't have survived as a 'child'. _Humans _didn't need fear in this society. And otherwise, he was a hunter. Not _prey_. "What would I be afraid of?"

"The risk that comes with being champion, of course! Or did you just realise that Ced is more suited to the role?!" This boy was _loud_.

"No, I'm pretty certain I'd be a better champion than Diggory." Harry said, losing interest in the conversation, meaning his voice came out in an apathetic tone. Then, to make matters worse, he let out a barely stifled yawn. The 'Puff's face went red at the perceived slight.

"Then why are you just sitting here when Ced is entering the contest?!" Still his volume was high. Did he think being loud meant you were intimidating?

"Huh?" Harry realized he'd zoned out a little, once he stopped caring at all about the idiot in front of him. Then, he remembered what had been asked. "Oh, I put my name in last night after I got permission from Flitwick."

"No you didn't, I was there all of last night, and didn't see you there even for a second; and everyone here has said that you've just been sitting here today, and that you haven't even gone into the barrier thing!" 'Barrier thing'. Harry supposed that the boy didn't know enough magic to phrase it better than that.

"Really? So does that mean you saw Crouch get knocked out?" Harry asked the annoying boy in front of him, wanting the conversation to end and figuring this would be the quickest means to that end.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" Even louder. Frustration?

"Well, if you were here all night then you would have seen Crouch-Moody come to the Goblet, and then see him get knocked out. How did that happen, by the way?" Harry's tone and expression was still of boredom and weariness far more than curiosity. Quite simply because he _was _bored, and he didn't get the hours a cat would need to stay awake comfortably for such a long period as he had.

"I don't know..." The boy trailed off, not understanding the reason Harry had asked what he thought of as an unrelated question.

"Then you weren't here all night, were you?" The boy narrowed his eyes visibly at the perceived enemy, and turned on his heel, unable to refute the logical assumption. Well, at least he knew when to give up. Apparently smarter than the impression that Harry had gotten from the 'Puff so far.

Soon after that, the more interesting spectacle of the two Weasley twins bouncing into the hall, each wearing the get up you would expect to belong to a muggle boxer, and each, badly, singing their chosen _entrance music_; Fred being the 'Witch Doctor' song that tended to annoy Harry quite quickly, while George chose to sing Amazing Grace as he _slowly_ bounced down the path to the goblet.

"I told the witch doctor I was in love with youuu! And then the Witch Doctor he told me what to do! He told me Oo-ee-oo-aa-aa Ting Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang! Oo-ee-oo-aa-aa Ting Tang Walla Walla Bang Baaang!"

"Amaaaazing Graaace, Howw Sweeet the soouund, waas bliiind buuuuttt nooow I seeeee!"

Behind them, Harry saw the two younger Weasleys follow, along with Hermione walking with Ginny while Thomas and Ron guffawed at something or other. At least until they noticed there were _Slytherins _in the hall with them, at which point they narrowed their eyes. The pair personified the hypocritical views that Gryffindors had in regards to 'bigotry'. They assumed that anyone dressed in Green and Silver _must_ discriminate based on blood status, not noticing the fact that they were doing exactly the same thing as what they hated. Hating people needlessly.

Not that any of the Slytherins were upset by the loss of the two 4th year Fools' friendship. Hell, some of he other houses' residents were jealous of their ability to avoid interaction with two thirds of _the Golden Trio_. Well, all three of the trio, but Granger didn't have any particular hatred of the snakes; she just avoided them to avoid Ronald's 'lectures'... A curious friendship, for sure, but Harry was fairly certain Hermione mainly stayed with the two because she liked Ginny and it would be illogical to alienate them when they shared most every lesson and she struggled to make friends with her own gender.

Or maybe the bushy haired girl was just dumb? Harry really didn't know her that well.

As the identical red heads placed their names in the cup, each gave a pose of victory, acting like they had already been selected; of course neither of them were likely to consider the fact that they may _not_ get picked. In fact, they almost certainly wouldn't. The cup was designed to search for far more useful abilities than the unique(ish) combination of pranking, goofing off, and annoying those they had a problem with, that the Weasley twins utilised in their lives. However, the next Gryfindor that came to put her name in had a better chance of being selected, in the Slytherin's opinion. Angelina tended to do very well in class; especially the practical aspect of it, something that was certainly a positive for this tournament. At least the Gryffindor chaser was quiet when she entered, too. The Twins' _celebration_ would be for nought once they weren't chosen.

And just about everybody, excluding themselves of course, sincerely doubted that they would be.

-()-()-()-

"Harry! Hey, Harry!" A male voice, panting, called out to the 16-year old.

Harry was, up until now, skimming rocks along the surface of the lake as he awaited the girls coming to get him. They were doing... something. Something they referred to as a 'girl thing', saying that it was 'no place for males'. Then, the 4 ordered him to meet them at the rock next to the lake... 10 minutes ago. He was told that being deliberately late was fashionable, though he had no idea why, and so he was willing to wait for a while.

Well, he was willing until now. This changed his opinion on the matter quite significantly.

Black was out of breath, though. The 'Potter' could far and away escape if he was willing to run for it, but that would only be a temporary fix; Black was stubborn, and would no doubt keep trying to corner his technical godson.

And, so, Harry turned to the long-haired man. Angry Emerald eyes locked onto steel grey, and the owner of the second flinched back a little at the fury he saw. Harry had made the threat the year before that he'd been _certain _would warn off the man-whore.

"Didn't I tell you, _Black_, that if you came near me again there'd be a significant decrease in the number of puppy Grims running around?"

Harry's wand appeared in his stronger hand, and the black-haired man gulped a little. He'd been threatened with castration by many a disgruntled former squeeze, but his best friend's son, and his cold comment, was by far more convincing than a crying and screaming woman, though most would call them girls, meaning that the genital-valuing man gulped nervously, crossing his legs a little in trepidation.

"N-Now listen here, Harry... there's n-no need for that." Sirius said, raising his hands placatingly. "We can talk about this in a civilised manner."

"Talk about _what_?" Harry hissed.

"About..." Okay, maybe bringing this up in such an unpopulated area wasn't the _best_ idea. "Um... Nothing!" The Auror captain turned on his heel and fled. He'd find Harry another day. In a place with _witnesses_.

Harry waited another 15 minutes, and the girls showed up... he still didn't know why, but they insisted, now, that they needed to go into the Great Hall now to get the 'best seats' for the champions being selected.

-()-()-()-

'Boy, the hall is packed tight.' Harry thought to himself as the last of the Slytherins had sat down.

For now, the visitors had split themselves between 2 tables. Durmstrang shared themselves between Hufflepuff and Slytherin, while Beauxbatons had done so with Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Apparently, more had chosen to eat on their ship and carriages respectively than Harry thought. Now, the tables had had to be extended to fit everyone. Attendance was mandatory for the Halloween feast/Campion selection.

Merlin, when the other Beauxbatons students arrived, the hall may burst.

The feast came first, which made sense to feed the champions, but that made eating very uncomfortable for anyone in the middle of their table. Thankfully, the 'best seats' that the girls had mentioned turned out to be the end nearest the teachers table. They were certain Harry would be champion, and so thought his walking distance should be as little as possible when his name was called. Harry was just glad he wasn't squashed. In fact, from his spot he was rather amused by the anti-social Krum sitting between two second years, who were desperately trying not to touch him and risk the Quiddich star's wrath.

The food, as usual, was very tasty, and today everyone ate their fill far faster than normal; eager to see just who would be selected as the champion of each school for the Triwizard Tournament.

As Dumbledore stood, the entire Hall fell silent instantaneously. An uncommon occurrence to say the least. Ordinarily, the rambunctious students would take at least 10 minutes to settle down. Normally, that was an underestimate in fact, but today the entire hall was full of nervous energy. Despite the other, newly added, aspects, this main body of the tournament was, by far, the most eagerly, and anxiously, awaited.

Soon after, Dumbledore began, with excitement even in his normally unchanging tone. The only teacher that did not reflect this eager energy was Snape. Even Mcgonogall was less than composed. Far more uninhibited than most any student than any had seen her. Granted, certain members of the student body had seen her angry enough to lose her composure, but that was a far less pleasant attitude to the one she currently sported. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore explained, once more, the meaning behind the tournament; the foreign relations, and then began on the more informative aspects.

"... Yes, yes, this is all very exciting." He said with a grandfatherly smile as the excitement was palpable. "Now, onto the first task. As you know, we are about to begin a brand new tournament! One that shall, for the first time, contain 6 tasks instead of the usual 3. We believe that the additional tasks will both increase the glory that is being competed for, and that they will make for a more entertaining Triwizard tournament!" He exclaimed with fake excitement. The Headmaster had, of course, not wanted the additions. The tasks would be dangerous enough as it was. This was just terrible. "Unfortunately, 5 of the 6 cannot be revealed without defeating the purpose of the one prior. But we can let you all know to clear your calenders for the 14th of November. That will be the day of our first task; and we sincerely hope you will join us in the challenge of our soon-to-be champions' bravery." This entire speech seemed more suited to Bagman, in Harry's opinion, but Dumbledore, no doubt, would need to introduce it as the head of the host school. "Now, Filch; please bring in the Goblet of Fire!"

After the miserable caretaker had brought the flaming wooden goblet in; the entire focus of the packed hall snapped onto it. The flames were flickering in a far more animated manner to what any had seen when entering their names and/or watching others do so.

The cause became clear when Crouch, the man with a toothbrush moustache that looked awfully ill today, cleared his throat.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, the Goblet appears to be ready." He weakly projected, as Dumbledore had been preparing to begin another speech regarding love or something of that sort.

"Wonderful, wonderful." He was either faking much better now, or Dumbledore was actually ecstatic as he approached the large wooden cup. "As you all know by now, our impartial judge is this marvellous enchanted goblet. It shall soon begin in the decision making process; I wish all those who have entered their names luck, as do all the members of staff and officials that we have been joined by for this event. We will, as you all know, have additional guests joining us as of tomorrow; due to an unfortunate event that occurred at Beauxbatons, and it will be a privilege to play host to them at this exciting time. I am sure that every one will do their utmost to make them feel comfortable, and I would implore you _not_ to ask them about what occurred. We must help them to recover from such a traumatic event; just as I am certain they would do for us." He said with a smile that was irritatingly ignored. Not irritating for the Headmaster, but for a certain Slytherin, who was now pointedly focused on the Goblet; pretending that he did not notice the far-from-subtle stares he was receiving from all who had heard the 'rumours'. "Oh, and it appears to be beginning."

'Thank Merlin.' Harry thought, as the attention was drawn back off of him and onto the flaring flame. One fo the blue streaks headed straight for the elderly wizard. With a stumble back , and a slight exclamation, the Headmaster lifted his hand to display an unburned slip of frilly white paper.

"The champion for Beuxbatons is... Fleur Delacour!" There was a smattering of applause from their school's attendees, but that could not even match the number of the girls who were crying openly at failing to be selected. The girl stood and began making her way to the front of the Great Hall, as applause began from the other schools; led by Caroline as she enthusiastically celebrated her friend's selection. The other Ravenclaws soon joined in, followed by the other houses and Durmstrang.

Again, a flame shot out and into the Hogwarts headmaster's hand, and the Headmaster stood back, opening his palm to reveal another scrap of paper; this one less decorated.

"The champion of Durmstrang is... Victor Krum!" This time, there was a very enthusiastic response, led by the Durmstrang Head who stood and began yelling "Bravo Victor!" over and over again. Krum surlily walked up the aisle and followed through the same doorway.

Once more, the fire shot a slip of paper out, sending it to the designated Headmaster. The man lifted the, again ordinary, paper into his view and exclaimed.

"And the Hogwarts champion is... Harry Potter!" The girls shot Harry a grin each as he left the hall, which he returned in kind. The applause was likely greater than the other two received. Unsurprising when you consider that Hogwarts and Beauxbatons _liked_ him. While many girls seemed to hate Fleur for some reason, and those who didn't care for Quiddich had no interest in the surly Durmstrang.

As Harry walked through the door, he heard the crowd go alarmingly quiet.

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

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	9. The Little Boy

**Sorry 'bout the delay, my Laptop's fan was jammed for quite a while so it kept overheating. Sorted now, though.**

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_The Satyr was slowly clip-clopping his way toward the now cowering child. The red-skinned man grinned sadistically down the path as he descended further into the bowels of the canyon. It had been a long time since he'd had fresh meat._

_It readjusted his grip on the wicked Pitchfork, and the canter increased in speed. The boy retreated further into the slight crevice he had found, in an attempt to escape the reach of the scary-man._

_The weapon glowed dully, the ruins signifying pain promising agony for any that were so much as scratched by the fork. The arm wielding the symbol was the same; the ruins of strength glowed a savage ruby, and the man's forked tongue ran over his lengthy fangs._

_Of course, he missed the _feral_ look in the child's averted eyes. Harry'd felt this way before. A beast was at its most dangerous when cornered, after all._

_-_()-()-()-()-

As Harry pondered the silence, the girls closest to him were in a less-than-happy state.

Each of them had been smirking victoriously as they watched their only male friend calmly and confidently stride up to the door to the side of the Head table. Each was glad at the prospect of Harry being in the TriWizard tournament; for reasons that were now completely counteracted by _this_. Harry was powerful. They believed that he had more potential than they could _comprehend_, let alone _match_. It was unfortunate that they'd yet to see what results he would find in a test of inheritance at the wizarding bank. His _gift_ with runes was not something that he could just _have_... surely there must have been some reason for it. Whether that was some inherited ability was to be seen, but there were not many other plausible explanations for it. There had long since been rumoured that truly ancient houses had methods of choosing a successor that had nought to do with the bloodline; and they could not think of anybody more worthy, in power or spirit, to be selected by one of them.

Surely this tournament would be the time for Harry to _show_ just how... amazing he was. For him to prove to the world that the older brother was far more worthy of adoration than the younger. Not that Harry himself had that desire; Harry practised a policy of live and let live, unless someone gave him a genuine reason, the powerful teen would not care whatsoever what they did. As soon as they crossed that line he had, however, he would, like any one of his Animal forms, put them down with extreme prejudice.

His opportunity to break out of the monocle of the-boy-who-lived's brother, though, would not work if the, so called, Chosen One was in the contest with him! Although...

Maybe this would be the perfect way to convince their love-interest that he should _cut loose_. That his power could be used to humiliate the brother he hated so. Even if it wasn't enough to do the world a favour and let the irritating boy die.

-()-()-()-()-()-()-

"Putain! Ça me fait chier!" Hmm. That wasn't a string of French that Harry was familiar with. Fleur did, however, look livid as she exclaimed it. Was it some form of curse? Swear words? That seemed likely at least. "_How am I supposed to compete against him?!_" She continued, this time understood by Harry. The Veela-girl was on a rant that was seemingly for her own sake; since only she, Harry and Krum were in the room. Krum looked mildly bemused as the French girl began a speech on the unfairness of Harry's inclusion; speaking of how he was both too strong, and that were she to attack him in any tasks of that nature, her classmates would never forgive her. Especially not those who would be arriving tomorrow, and that he had saved from death and worse. Her relations with most of them were strained enough as it was. To fight their rescuer? That was a bad idea.

Harry watched her little temper tantrum with amusement. He followed the rant about her complaints regarding the tournament. Apparently she had her own, rather interesting, reasons to have entered; proving that she was more than just 'Fleur the Veela'. A valid reason for wanting to be the victorious champion; but Harry knew that neither he nor Krum would _let _her win. Nor would the girl likely want that to be the cause of her victory, or the purpose would be defeated.

Krum, meanwhile, was much less interesting. The Quiddich star was leant against a wall next to the trophy room's fireplace, watching the other 2 champions with a scowl; expression only briefly changing to one of amusement as Fleur began her tirade before it returned to the surly reflection of his attitude.

Before Harry could actually talk to either of the other champions, he was interrupted by the door swinging open and an irritating figure striding through.

-()-()-()-

Thomas Potter was angry. How in Merlin's name could his _pathetic _brother be selected for the tournament? He was a _geeky snake!_What chance did Hogwarts stand of getting glory on the shoulders of such a weakling?

And what was Dumbledore playing at? Not letting _him_, the CHOSEN ONE, enter? It was like he _wanted _Hogwarts to lose!

Then, he was broken out of his thoughts by a final flash from the fire, after which a piece of paper was expelled, thrown to the Headmaster. His eyes snapped forward, and Thomas' less-than-stellar intellignce tried to figure out what this meant. Weren't there only 3 champions?

"...Thomas Potter." And silence reigned.

-()-()()-()-

"What are you doing 'ere?! Do zey want uz back?!" Fleur Delacour snapped at the irritating boy, who believed that she was his _property_. She very much disliked the younger Potter. As far as she could tell, he had no redeeming qualities for the arrogance and bigotry he often showed; both to Slytherins, foreigners and what England classed as sub-human species. This, unfortunately, meant that the elder Delacour was doubly inferior in his opinion, explaining the scowl that quickly spread across his chubby face. The boy opened his mouth to put her in her place, as he no doubt considered it, but was prevented from putting his foot in his mouth when the door slammed open, and an angry old man rushed in.

"Thomas! How did you get your name into the goblet?!" Dumbledore demanded of the-boy-who-live, louder than anyone present had heard him speak; the man's voice carried, but it was always a reassuring and calm tone.

"I-I didn't, sir."

"Do not lie to me, Thomas! Did you convince an adult to help you? Was it James? Lily?"

"W-What? No! No, it wasn't me! I didn't do anything!"

Harry, and many others in the know, noted that Dumbledore now used a very subtle legilmency probe on the younger Potter, and seemed to find something that told him he was telling the truth. He turned to the other Professors, who had entered behind him.

"I am afraid that Barty Crouch Junior was more successful than we have hoped, and that he has entered Thomas here against his will to be an unwilling participant in the tournament."

"It is a little convenient, do you not think, Dumbledore? That you just happen to have 2 champions? I do not remember there being a clause that granted the host school a second champion; yet here _he_is." He waved dismissively at Thomas. "It is an unfair advantage, no? I think my school, and Beauxbatons, of course, should be permitted to enter our students again!"

"Madame?" Fleur began, confused. "What are zey talking about? It zounds like zey are zaying zis leetle boy will be in ze contest!" Thomas visibly bristled at the words, not thinking that it was at all fair, especially for a Veela Bitch, to call the saviour of the wizarding world a 'little boy'. He would have voiced this, had he not been cut off by the loud, as is natural for such an abnormally large woman, voice of Madame Maxine.

"Eet appears zat zere 'as been a mistake and zat zis child will be in ze contest too, Fleur." Olympe said, with an annoyed temperament. "I, too, believe zat we should be allowed anozzer champion, Dumblydoor." The half-gaint said, with a frown directed at said headmaster.

"Don't blame Dumbledore, Madame, Karkaroff." Snape interjected, looking at the-boy-who-lived with an expression more suited to a very fat slug than a person. "It is Potter that deserves your disdain; he insists on breaking the rules at _every _possible turn." At this, a growl from the far corner of the room directed Harry's attention to occupants he had not noticed until this point. James and Lily Potter, along with Sirius Black, were stood just inside the doorway. Lily looked miserable, while Sirius and James were glowering at the greasy professor.

"Shut it, Snivellus! Don't speak about my son like that!" James defended his youngest, glare intensifying as the other man met his gaze.

"Why wouldn't I? He's just as arrogant as his father." Severus hissed at the messy haired auror. Both James and Sirius growled at him, and opened their mouths to retort. Not that they were particularly creative with their insults.

"Long nosed-" "Greasy haired-" ""Twat.""

"James!" Lily scolded. "Your sons are here, stop being so rude!" Harry scowled at the plural, and was glad when Crouch interrupted.

"This is irrelevant, I'm afraid. You are unable to make any additional entries until the next tournament begins."

"Ridiculous! Just relight the goblet and then we two can re-enter the names of our students."

"And kill your star student?" Harry asked calmly, his voice carrying. "The goblet would assume that this tournament was cancelled and that we three had violated the contract along with him." He waved vaguely toward his _brother _and continued. "It doesn't matter anyway. From what I know of Viktor, he's considered to be quite powerful, right?"

"Yes. So what?" Igor Karkaroff asked, suspiciously.

"So, do you really think that a 14 year old boy, of below average skill and power, can defeat him?" The headmaster frowned as he thought about this. And realised that the 16 year old was right; Viktor would be victorious despite Hogwarts having an additional champion. Reluctantly, the goatee'd Headmaster nodded.

"There you go. No need to be angry about a 4thyear being entered; if anything, he should be. Chances are he'll perish in one of the tasks." Harry stated, as though commenting on the weather. "A _strong_4thyear would stand little to no chance against the weakest of NEWT students. Let alone someone who has been handed everything on a silver platter for so long that he has no magical, or physical, strength to speak of." He continued, voice still indifferent though his expression turned to a scowl as the chubby 14 year old raised himself up and puffed out his chest with what Harry supposed was meant to be an intimidating look.

"_What _did you just say?" Thomas hissed.

"In short; that you're weak." Harry responded calmly.

"Like _you_can comment on that! You're a bookworm. I could kick your ass with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back!"

"Really?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised. "How do you figure? What have you done that shows _any _power? Y'know, other than the idiot acts that require you getting rescued at the end of each year." Harry subtly applied a truth rune to his often-lying brother. It wouldn't do for him to make up some story about the events of 1st or second year; as he was likely inclined to do.

"I-I defeated you-know-who!"

"Our Grandmother defeated Voldemort." Thomas flinched. "As evidenced by the fact that you can't say his name." The others in the room were interested by the previous statement. "Ah. I see that none of you know the details of that night. Our grandmother; Dorea Potter nee Black, gave her life to provide _the-boy-who-lived _protection against Voldemort's killing curse. Yet nobody gives her, nor my Grandfather who defeated nearly 20 Death Eaters at the same time, credit. Just piles it onto the shoulders of an arrogant _little boy _who was one year old at the time." He shook his head. "It's pathetic."

"Uh... Right." Bagman began, looking uncertain and changing the subject. "A-As Dumbledore said earlier, the first task will take place on the 14th of November. Until then, we have nothing else to say to the champions, so you are dismissed?" He looked to the three Headteachers and Crouch, who nodded at him. "Goodbye! I will see you all soon for the wand-weighing ceremony." The past-his-prime man scampered off, followed by the majority of the room's occupants; excluding the 4 Potters, Sirius Black, Dumbledore and the Beauxbatons teacher and student.

"Harry, my boy... you had no right to give such details of that night." The 6th year turned a glare on the old man, who ignored it. "That was a night that is very private to Thomas. It is his right to share what happened, not yours.."

"Right." Harry snapped back, voice a snarl. "Because _me _being there, and seeing both of the family members I actually hold in high esteem being _slaughtered _wasn't significant at all, was it?!" He turned a cold look onto the Potter family. "As we are both _officially _emancipated now; I will be attending a meeting at Gringotts this Saturday at 1 o'clock. I don't particularly care if you are there, but the Goblins likely will wish for your attendance." As he finished saying this, he noticed Fleur's expression turn to panic rather quickly, and would have asked the reason behind such alarm, had his 'family' not been in the room with them. Instead, Harry stalked out of the room, and left them all in silence.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed. That statement had been a mistake; he, like just about everybody else, did not register the fact that the elder Potter son was there that night. It was not good that Harry's respect for the aged Headmaster was declining; the wolf inside Harry would not accept bowing to somebody he did not consider worthy of that much. And having Harry be willing to follow him would be the best way for Albus to ensure the powerful wizard assisted him and the light side after Tom's return. He would have to rectify this falling out.

-()-

Harry quickly moved through the school, heading, in a roundabout route as to calm himself after dealing with the people he despised, to his common room. Stopping outside the wall, he spoke.

"Cobra." Really unimaginative, he knew. Especially for the house that was supposed to _value _privacy and security.

Unlike what Harry was sure would have taken place in the other 3 houses, there was no applause. No party. Just more people sat around the common room, looking slightly more happy, than normal. That and looking irritated for obvious reasons. Tracy and Daphne, however, were waiting next to the entrance with scowls. Not at the boy who entered, but at his _brother_.

The girls hadn't calmed down in the period between leaving the Great Hall and their friend joining them in the common room. If anything, the ill will they held towards the boy-who-lived had increased exponentially in that time.

Them and the rest of the school.

However, the pair did not know how to phrase "I'm sorry your famous twat of a brother sabotaged your chance to prove to your family, who you hate, that they were complete and utter fools to treat _you_badly and favour _him_." So they settled on greeting him with a hug from each, to which Harry gave a half-smile; before letting out a slight yawn.

"Congratulations!" Tracy exclaimed to him, plastering a grin on her face. Daphne offered a less exuberant repetition.

"Thanks, hopefully it'll still be enjoyable." Yes, Harry thought 'life threatening' was the same as enjoyable. "But, more importantly, I found something out before the feast that makes it a hell of a lot better a deal for me." Harry gave a, rare, genuine grin to the two in front of him. "As of the second my name was called; I'm officially emancipated. The Potters hold _no _influence over me." Unlike previously, when they _would_ have had final say in matters such as his education and funds. Not that he used their money.

If Harry was expecting happiness from Daphne and Tracy, or later from Caroline and Jasmine, at the news, he was sorely mistaken. The 4 of them had been wondering just how to bring up the favour that they had agreed to, on behalf of him, to Harry. It would be an uncomfortable conversation to be sure, and _this _sped up the deadline by a good margin. And so Tracy paled and Daphne scowled.

They would need to have a conversation with Fleur Delacour.

And it would not be one the French girl found enjoyable.

-()-()-()-

The next day, the same subject was on the mind of an unnaturally beautiful girl, dressed in the light, blue uniform of Beauxbatons.

Fleur Delacour was nervous; not helped by the fact that she did not get a wink of sleep the night before, and had no idea what she planned on doing to calm her nerves.

Saturday. She had until _Saturday_until her _situation_came to fruition. Two ways; neither of which she necessarily wanted, but one of which she certainly viewed as preferable. But Caroline had all but forbidden her from broaching the subject with the other involved party. And _that_was why she was currently on the hunt for her childhood friend. It was no longer her decision whether or not they revealed the 'secret' to Harry. The only variable up for debate was who should tell him.

Her, one of the girls that knew him much better than she, or the Goblins.

And the Goblins would be much more... brass when bringing up such a sensitive issue. Not to mention the French girl had little to no idea of how Harry would react to the sudden presentation of a marriage contract. With such a surprise, maybe he would just allow it to go to his younger brother. And that thought repulsed Fleur Delacour. Well, Fleur and just about every other female that had spent time in the vicinity of the arrogant younger Potter.

She had finished her prior commitments for the day and, despite how much she wanted to head to the carriages and go to sleep, she was heading for the approximate location of Caroline and her friends. The note Fleur had been sent the night before had assured her that they'd 'get rid' of Harry for a few hours while the 5 discussed just what they were going to do to resolve this.

Inside the room, the atmosphere was... frosty.

Caroline, Tracy and Jasmine were each casting nervous glances over at their oldest friend, each worried about the implications of Daphne's frequent fingering of her wand. Around the three, she let her shields down more than with anyone else. Even more than Harry; since his emotions were strange and he struggled with the everyday problems that she would come to him with. He would do his best, of course, but his solutions had always been a little over the top to bother him with the petty issues. One example amused the girls, when in their more... sinister moods, even now. Just as it had stuck with many of the male population. Not what Harry did, their male friend had been stopped too soon, but the... _rupture_that Tracy caused.

_Flashback: Harry's 4__th__year (Chamber of Secrets) _

_A tall and strong, albeit slightly lanky, figure jogged through the corridor. The 4 girls in pursuit were given a demonstration of just how far he outstripped the average human, let alone _wizard_when it came to physical ability. They aught to have known by now, but it was easy to forget how different their male friend was._

_Each was breathing too hard to call out to Harry as he vaulted the bannister, dropping to the floor of the Entrance hall and continuing his run. The girls followed, taking the more conventional route of the stairs, and saw that the Animagus' lead had increased even further with that time they lost in their safer descent. Harry had covered half the ground to the lake, and had given up the quieter paces in exchange for a flat-out sprint. The crowd of 6__th__years had taken note of the incoming wizard, too._

_Now, any normal person would have taken the couple of seconds necessary to yell out "Thompson!" at this point, and so let everyone know who it was that had motivated him to run the length of the castle in order to exact his revenge. Harry, however, just honed in on him and redoubled his efforts; increasing his speed yet again._

_By the time the girls had covered the next 20 metres, taking them about a third of the way to the group, Harry had reached the first of the Ravenclaws, and had subsequently batted him aside nonchalantly. The next pair, he ran over on his way to Thompson, barely seeming to notice them as they were trampled with panicked yells._

_The final 6__th__Year 'Claw between their effective 'leader' was sent to the Hospital Wing with a broken jaw as Harry dealt him a quick blow that sent him sprawling into the water behind._

_Eric Thompson had, by this point in the proceedings, cottoned on to the fact that Harry meant him ill will, and chose to attempt a daring (read: Idiotic) escape by running at his attacker with an intimidating (read: Wimpy) yell. The 17 year old was shut up, rather effectively, by the fist that was planted into his gut; leading to a grunt and a _crack_as one of his ribs cleanly broke. The next thing Eric knew, he was flung back into the December-chilled lake._

_As he resurfaced, yet another girlish yell sounded; this one that the girls were just close enough to hear, as Thompson saw the glowing end of a wand centred on him._

"_Glacius!" Harry barked._

_The water around Eric froze in a cube,and he felt a moment of drowning-panic, followed by a _different_type of panic. The cube began to rise, as he flailed his hands and feet; the only parts of his limbs that were free._

_Daphne and the others reached Harry as the cube was spinning wildly, and the imprisoned boy's face was turning green with nausea. The girls stopped, doubled over and panting, for a few seconds before Daphne gasped out "Stop...", and Harry's focus switched onto them and away from the rapidly dizzying form of the Ravenclaw._

"_What? Why?" Harry was confused. He had no idea why the girls, Daphne especially, would stop him from teaching the Ravenclaw a lesson. The Slytherin 4__th__year had yet to even get to the real lesson. He had intended to set a pack of dogs on the older boy, and to allow him an attempt at escape while too dizzy to walk in a straight line. _

"_It was... just a... threat." _

"Just_a threat?" Harry's befuddled frown deepened . "What do you mean? How can a threat be treated so... casually?" The 'Claws' spinning, however, had slowed marginally._

"_Because he never... would have done it. He... isn't like those _Slytherins _that were willing to actually do... that." Daphne was regaining her breath, and so spoke in larger chunks._

"_Well why the hell would he threaten something like that if he wasn't going to do it?!" Harry exclaimed, disliking the lack of understanding he had in this situation._

"_To look tough in front of his friends? I don't know."_

"_So you don't know he wouldn't do that!" Harry pointed out, and the ice-imprisoned boy was flung onto the bank of the lake, the ball of ice shattering and leaving him disorientated and shivering on the grass. Harry flicked his wrist again, and two stones next to Eric transformed quickly into snarling Rottweilers._

"_Yes I do!" Daphne yelled, panicked, as the vicious animals advanced. The other girls were quick to back the Slytherin girl up, stating that they knew the Ravenclaw was just angry at Daphne for turning him down when he made the threat. This didn't appease Harry, though._

"_Just stop!" Tracy ordered her friend, scowling at him. She stepped between the dogs and their would-be-victim. The two animals looked, confusedly, to their creator and followed Harry as he just grumbled something in an unrecognisable, harsh tongue, and stalked off back toward the castle._

"_Th-thank yo-iee!" Thompson had begun to thank the girls for their rescue, before the Davis daughter stomped, rather savagely, on his crotch._

_End of Flashback_

It was lucky that the threat had been heard by many in the Great Hall, as the idiot 'Claw had been confident that _he_would be the one Daphne finally succumbed to. That meant that Harry got off with a light-ish punishment; in a dozen or so detentions with Filch.

The four girls' attention was moved away from the various trains of thought they had; and the worry had plagued three of them increased, as a nervous knock came from the door. Apparently Ms. Delacour had arrived.

-()-()-()-

Elsewhere, Harry was pacing nervously. The... omens today did not bode well.

Not that he believed in the Divination stuff, but he had seen the signs. The girls were giving him confusing looks; ones that made him _extremely_uneasy. The same was coming from the French Champion; and he had no idea what could inspire her to look at him like he was... something! Stupid looks.

On top of that, he _knew_the attention wouldn't be going away tonight. It'd be growing, he suspected, with the arrival of all the Beauxbatons students. And he was a champion! Why hadn't he thought about that before he entered the blasted tournament?!

He was too unsettled to even sleep! And that was a very rare occurrence for him, what with his more-than-slightly lazy forms. He needed to burn some energy, but they'd been banned from leaving the castle until the next day; they were unsure when exactly the French reinforcements would be arriving.

Harry waved his wand in a steady, horizontal figure of eight, and a punching bag, filled with sand, was suddenly hanging from his ceiling. And so he set to working out his frustration.

**Once again, sorry about the lack of updates for a while. I haven't had many complaints about it; probably 'cause it's Christmas and people are busier than normal, but I do apologise about it.**

**One more thing; I've gotten a couple of people saying I shouldn't care 'bout the reviews I get and that I should write for me instead. I _do_ write for me, but I'll say it here; I have an absolutely _terrible_ attention span. When I write, and I've got a whole bunch of stories that have the first chapter or so written, if I don't have a motive to continue (for example; _reviews_) I'll likely drift off to something else. It's doubtful that'll happen with Feral, or my PJO story, but reviews help to guarantee that. Hope y'all understand.**

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**Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	10. The Contract

**Here's another chapter. Sorry that it's been a while, I've had writers block for this and my PJO fanfic for a good few weeks. Plus, it's just been a shitty month for me, but nothing worth complaining about.**

**I'd like to clarify here; if I ever abandon this, or any, story (and that's very unlikely), I'll make it clear that I have.**

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* * *

><p>Harry was stood at the back of the crowd, doing his best to, despite his tall frame, hide from the blue-dressed teenagers and pre-teens that were pouring into the Entrance Hall; forgoing the formalities that the rest of their school had given on their arrival. Despite this, the large group was silent as they rushed to join up with the older Beauxbatons students. Many of the already present French students quickly crossed the distance left between them and their younger peers. Sisters, brothers and cousins hugged their family members tightly as they felt the relief just about anybody would. Sure, their Headmistress had assured them that nobody had died, but Harry assumed they had not really believed it until they saw the proof before their own two eyes.<p>

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Dumbledore and Maxine watching the reunions with joy in their eyes, as Karkaroff looked on boredly. The teachers gathered around tended to have expressions similar to the former, while only Snape had one as inappropriate as the latter; in his ever-present sneer.

Next to the messy, black haired 6th year, Caroline, who was far more effectively hidden, was stubbornly rubbing her eyes; trying to avoid letting the tears fall. Whether those would be from empathy for the French Witches and Wizards plight, or jealousy at the ability to be _reunited _with those they were worried for, Harry couldn't say. And he had long since learned that it would be a bad idea to actually ask about such an uncomfortable topic, lest the short girl's tears increase even further.

Harry released a groan as the male population of Hogwarts' jaws collectively dropped, obviously caused by a new entrance; the new girl bore a, for lack of a better word, _resemblance_ to the newly selected Beauxbatons champion.

'Another Veela then.' Harry commented to himself, before his eyebrows shot into his hairline. 'And a relative of Fleur, apparently.' The girl had run to, and been embraced by, the elder Delacour daughter, both babbling in French as they hugged.

Harry's eyebrows lowered, and sank into a frown as he scratched at his cheek. Was something wrong with the rune he had drawn there? It was supposed to let him know whenever somebody he had protected, and wished to continue protecting, was in danger, but he hadn't ever met that girl, nor any of the others. So... why did his magic let him know that Beauxbatons had been where he needed to be? And _why_ had it told him the younger sister of Fleur was in danger? She wasn't here, after all. Just because she was a member of that family, there was no reason that he would be compelled to help this girl. Ah, well. Magic was far from understood. It may well be the case that this was just one of the many unexplained occurrences.

As Harry noted the, frankly pathetic, reactions of the males around him; some were openly _drooling_ for Merlin's sake, a passage from his new favourite book came to him. One that had inspired a great deal of thought in the Wizard in regards to why he would be so different from his peers.

-()-()-

_Humans, particularly those of the male gender and/or in the later stages of youth, are often ruled by their sexuality and it has, shown by the _many_ instances in history in which sex has resulted in conflict and/or disagreements, the ability to make them act in ways that we Goblins would refer to as uninhibited and foolish. This can be shown by their reaction to many magical creatures of the humanoid stature, though fortunately not our species. The most prominent example is the reaction of males in the presence of Veela and Sirens. Even the most strong willed of (Heterosexual) men will feel the pull of their allure and those that are described as 'teenagers', or those later in life that possess lesser will, by their own species will stand little to no chance of resisting the temptation to act in a foolish manner. Humans can develop an 'immunity' of sorts to the allure if they are subjected frequently and so learn to ignore the temptation, and a very small percentage of those both inclined towards females are born without being able to feel the pull whatsoever..._

-()-()-

But that didn't describe Harry. He felt the pull, admittedly vaguely, but even at the World Cup in the presence of a dozen or so full grown Veela he had no trouble resisting. So what on Earth was the reason? Was it justv an extension of his subconscious aversion to such strange emotions?

He was aware of the fact that his feelings, while becoming more like those of an ordinary human, were stunted in regards to romance and similar fields.

He was also aware of the fact that his... robotic, for lack of a better word, mindset towards the opposite sex was caused by the accidental hearing, while in his Dire-Wolf form, of a man talking to his child about their pet dog and Harry's, entirely rational, fear that followed that scene.

-()-()-

_Harry was in the woods of Muggle Britain; a shadow that was waiting for the donut shop, a pleasure he had recently discovered and occasionally partook in, to open in the shopping centre across the main road between it and the trees he resided behind._

_It was winter, and the child, only 9 years old, didn't want to wait, shivering, in his human form. Instead, he chose the thick winter coat of his Wolf to shield from the nip of cold air._

_On this side of the road, other than the woods, there were half a dozen shops. A barbers was the furthest down the small cluster they formed from Harry, then a newsagents and a grocers side by side, followed by a DIY shop, a charity shop, and lastly a Vet. The Vet's customers, being nearest to the canine, were within Harry's earshot, and so he heard a conversation between father and son that would stick with him for the rest of his days._

"_Daddy," The child began. "What's wrong with Rover?" Even as a wolf, and therefore with a slightly less human brain, Harry could hear the sadness in his voice. Sadness, that his pet, likely a dog, was sick and fear of what might happen to the animal._

"_Rover's just having an operation, Kevin. It's nothing dangerous, but it will stop him from humping the furniture." The man grumbled something under his breath about his mother-in-law and her big mouth. Harry guessed that she had used that term 'humping', and the father was not happy about it._

"_How will it stop the humping?" The child asked, wanting reassurance that his friend would not be harmed._

"_Rover will just have a quick operation called 'neutering', Kevin. I promise that nothing bad will happen to him. Now, how about some ice-cream?"_

"_Yay! Ice-cream!"_

_-_()-()-

Harry had, later on that day, looked up what that word meant. Needless to say, as one of his forms was _similar_ to a dog, he had sworn that day that _his_ testicles would never be subjected to such horror. And, short of hunting down every Vet in the world, the Animagus had not known just how to do that. He enjoyed his Canine form, and didn't want to forgo it in the future. Unconsciously his mind had decided that, since he was 9 and had zero thoughts regarding mating, it would be better to cordon that off. While he was aware of the fact that he was primarily human, why would he risk upsetting somebody with sexual actions if it could result in his losing his genitalia?

It was only now that he was coming to understand that, short of humping somebody's leg, in wolf form in particular, he wouldn't be subjected to a _fixing_. But the hesitance was definitely still there, and allowed him to maintain perfect control around the species that SharpTongue mentioned. Or at least, so far.

But back to the events unfolding around Harry.

He was growing more and more disgusted by the obvious lust on his classmates' faces. The girl was _maybe_ 14, even if she looked older, after all, and 17 year olds were here drooling as they undressed her with their eyes. Just as a glazed-eyed red head, one guess which it was, opened his mouth to embarrass himself, the 'spell' was broken by a loud _shriek_ coming from behind Harry,

"Vert! Vert, vert, vert!" As Harry turned to the source of the noise, he found a blue blur rocketing towards him. Not in his direction, no, _at Harry_. Normally, he'd have easily reacted, either sidestepping or drawing his wand to deal with a potential threat. But this was a _tiny_ girl. No older than 11 and, even for that age, abnormally diminutive.

"Oof!" Harry grunted, as the girl flew at him and slammed into his chest in an impressive leap; still chanting 'green' in her native tongue as she wrapped him in a hug that, betraying a hidden strength, knocked all the remaining wind from the tall teen's lungs.

The girl babbled something in French, too fast for Harry to follow, as she dropped to the ground in front of the English Wizard. Harry took a gasping breath as he refilled his lungs and relieved the aching in his ribs from the little girl's hug.

"Um... Hello?" The black haired teen grinned at the girl, and focused on listening as the girl began her rapid-fire talking.

"_Hello, Green Man! I didn't know you went to school here! I'm Michelle! I like you! You rescued us! Thank you for saving us, Green Man! You were a pretty cat, and I like your eyes! Emeralds are pretty, and so are your eyes! The mean men went away and haven't come back, but our school got blown up. But we're going to stay with you, so it's a happy ending!_" Michelle gave a wide grin, and clambered onto Harry's back, scaling him like a cliff until she reached his neck, where she balanced and sat.

"Uh... right." That was a lot of information to get in a foreign tongue in no more than 20 seconds. "_Is there anyone here from your family, Michelle?_" He asked the girl sat on his neck, as he realised that the majority of the hall was now watching him and the girl currently attached to him.

"_Nope!_" She responded, chipper. "_My Mom and Dad are still in France, but I get to visit them at the weekend. We're just here now because we need to learn our way around school. Oh! Can you give me a tour, Green Man?!_" She asked, excited once again.

"_I'd be happy to. And my name's Harry, Michelle. It's nice to meet you._"

"_You too!_ _Do you know when we get to eat?_" Her attention span proved not to be great, as the first year's stomach growled.

-()-()-()-()-

"I would like to say, on behalf of everybody in Hogwarts, that we are happy to welcome you to our castle. Of course, it is a shame that it is necessary and that the situation ended in such a way; one that showed that everybody involved in that horrific series of events was a victim." Dumbledore shook his head, sighing sadly at the thought of, what he perceived to be, the loss of so much redeemable life. Yet nobody was punished, since the French government deemed the vigilante who intervened commendable. _Commendable_, really. He _killed_ and they believed that the elder Potter boy was worthy of forgiveness.

Of course, the aged Headmaster was unaware of the seething Headmistress sat to his left, or the disgusted French students shooting him glares. How dare he call the people who tried to _rape_ and _kill_ the Beauxbatons students victims? What was wrong with the man to think that way?

"But the way that we can pull through this," Again, his use of the term _we_ aggravated several of the French students. "Is through support. This is the perfect way for us to fulfil the very aims of what we began this tournament trying to achieve; international cooperation and relationship building." The Old Man gave what he thought to be a humble smile to the, again from his distorted perspective, attentive audience.

Albus Dumbledore didn't receive the applause he expected at the end of his speech but, true to form, the Headmaster assumed that his words had touched those present so greatly that they had been rendered immobile and speechless. Because why else would they not be exclaiming their agreement?

Across the hall, Harry sat. To say he was out of his comfort zone would be an understatement for sure. Around the teen, dressed in black, green and silver for the welcome, three was a sea of blue. Apparently the younger Beauxbatons students didn't understand the policy of 'avoid the dangerous man'/ 'avoid the killer'. Instead, the charge lead by Michelle, they chose to show their gratitude to Harry by bombarding him with meaningless conversation. He was beginning to wonder how they could still be _this_ immature. Was it some kind of shock? Was that the way that normal people dealt with trauma? To act completely illogically?

It sounded like a more feasible explanation than an entire school of kids being _this_ immature. Even the older French students weren't avoiding him anywhere near as much as he had predicted. They seemed grateful which, Harry supposed, he could understand. He _had_ saved their lives, after all. But you can be both grateful and afraid at the same time, and that would make a hell of a lot more sense to him than showing the beginnings of hero-worship for the guy that publically killed dozens of Dark Wizards without much difficulty whatsoever.

And by no difficulty _Harry_ more meant that he had felt shockingly little afterwards. Not that surprising in his own mind, since it had been like putting down rabid dogs more than killing humans, but surely most people had more… morals? More mainstream morals? Base d on what the aged Headmaster thought on the subject, they would all be repulsed by him.

While this confusion was rather constant, the more pressing thought running through Harry's head was one of irritation. The kids sure could talk a lot. That was even more clear now that Dumbledore had finally shut up and they could stop whispering at him.

'How could people with such small lungs have so much _volume_?' Harry wondered, as Daphne caught his eyes.

Was she laughing at him?

Evil Bitch.

Okay, so maybe the sight was a little amusing; as evident by the fact that the others were trying, and failing spectacularly, to hold in their giggles at the sight of a scowling Harry Potter staring longingly at his food while the Beauxbatons girls on either side of him repeatedly tugged on his arms to try to pull his attention solely to them. But even so! They could have had a little empathy for his plight. Harry had to eat a lot. That was one of the few things his different instincts didn't clash on. He used a lot of energy, and would much rather be eating his fill right now than struggling to follow a conversation he had no interest in, that was also in a tongue not native to him.

The younger, and far more enthusiastic, students collectively froze, and their collective gaze focused on something behind Harry's head. He waited three beats, and found that they did not move back to him, so he turned to see what the fuss was about.

He supposed that she was intimidating to the small girls, but he really didn't see the need for the dislike that was present on their faces as they watched Fleur Delacour with apprehension. She'd come across as… nice, most of the time, to Harry. Granted, she was a little curt with the idiot boys that tried to 'court' her through public displays of stupidity, and was downright rude to Thomas, but Harry firmly believed that the morons deserved more than that for harassing the Veela at every turn.

"Hello, Fleur." He said to his fellow champion, as he smiled politely at her. Any sincerity was taken away by the confusion he felt at the Beauxbatons girls' reactions to the silver-blonde's presence.

''Ello 'Arry. Would it be okay for us to take a walk?" She sounded slightly nervous about taking a walk with the boy, but Harry put it down to the glares that were coming from the majority of her fellow Beauxbatons. He imagined that such… hate would be upsetting, explaining why she had been sat quite far down the table with the small group of girls that he constantly saw accompanying Fleur, with the addition of the new Veela; who drew even more attention to her and her friends.

"Sure." Harry saw no reason to refuse, and chances were that he wouldn't get any food even if he stayed, so he might as well go for the conversation that, presumably, would be more engaging than being chatted at by a bunch of first and second years. "Where did you want to walk?" He asked, as he rose from his seat, before being reminded that he was being held, rather firmly, by the nearest two girls, as they pulled him firmly back to the bench.

"Non! _You won't... him!_" Harry missed a word in that. One that he hadn't learned as of yet. The two girls, and their fellows, gave what would have been, on the faces of somebody more scary, intimidating glares to Fleur, but cowered slightly when the Beauty returned it tenfold.

"I was not going to bewitch 'im, Jessica." Fleur said to the one who spoke, with a dark glare. "'Arry?" She looked to him, wondering whether he was going to come with her as the girls let go of his arms, remembering the rumours of Fleur's avian form.

Harry, meanwhile, had taken the couple of seconds to check the expression of those further down their table. Those French teens _did_ give a genuine feel of hostility in the glares that they directed at their Champion. Strange. He had seen her be a little racist to the English, with snide comments about the country itself, the food and the weather, but the two countries had a history of conflict, and some of the Hogwarts' students had said much worse about the French during their time here. Fleur had also been short with the male populations of Hogwarts and Durmstrang, but never had he seen her be anything but polite to her fellows.

He didn't know the eldest Delacour all that well, meaning that Harry was unaware that that was just an attempt at putting up a 'united front', as they had been instructed before attending the tournament. _Very few_ of the people she had known through her time in Beauxbatons had been anything other than unpleasant or slobbering. The discrimination and racism against her kind, while less extreme than that of Britain, was still very much present in France: Men wanted her as little more than a trophy, to be mounted whenever they pleased, and women were jealous of her. A rational jealousy, since most of their partners would jump at the chance to nail a Veela, but harsh nonetheless, as Fleur had little to no control over the reactions of men to her unconscious allure.

"Uh, right." Harry pulled himself back to the present and stood, unrestricted this time as he followed the blonde out of the hall at a quick pace.

-()-()-()-()-

"So... what's up?" Harry asked the girl he was accompanying, as they walked through the castle's corridors, on the second floor.

"Up?" Fleur asked, not knowing what the native English speaker meant by the expression. Presumably he wasn't asking about the ceiling.

"Why'd you want to talk to me?" Harry corrected himself, and saw Fleur don a look of understanding briefly, before speaking once more.

"Oh, right." She cleared her throat a little, and Harry was confused to see an expression of nervousness. That suggested that this was an unpleasant topic, for the girl next to him at least. "It's about your... upcoming bank appointment."

"At Gringotts? What did you need to talk to me about that?" He had no idea what interest the Delacour daughter would have in his and his 'family's going to the wizarding bank.

"I... well, _we_ need to tell you something."

"We?" That didn't sound good to Harry, especially since he couldn't see, hear or smell anybody else in the vicinity.

"Oui." She suddenly stopped, and turned to the door to her immediate right, raising her hand and giving four sharp raps on the wood.

"What are you..." The door opened and Harry trailed off. "Caroline?"

-()-()-()-

Harry was sat on a comfortable seat, across from Jasmine, Caroline and Fleur. His two friends were sat on a two-man sofa, while Fleur was on a chair similar to his own; a blue, comfortable armchair.

"Look, I don't know _what_ I did, but I'm sorry." Harry said, nervously. The seriousness of the three boded... badly for the lone male in the room. Caroline gave a small smile to her male friend, and corrected his mistake.

"You don't need to apologise, Harry. This isn't about something _you_ did."

"Okay... so who did something?"

"Harold Potter."

"Uh... you mean my Grandfather?" Harry asked, with a frown. His grandfather had been a good man. What could he have done wrong? The girls with him, or two of them anyway, knew that Harry viewed his grandparents with rose-tinted glasses. They would have to be careful with this.

"'E and my grandfazzer really." Fleur said, or maybe spat would be the better description. "Zey... ah, zey drew up a contract before my fazzer and ze current Lord Potter were born." Harry turned to face her with a raised eyebrow, not understanding why he was being told of a business arangement.

"So? I don't really care what the Potter businesses are doing." He commented. He was barely a member of that family any more, after all.

"Non. It wasn't zat kind of contract." Fleur said, worriedly. "Eet was a... a..."

"Marriage contract." Jasmine decided to put the girl out of her misery. It wasn't fair to make Fleur tell Harry; she was just as trapped as Harry. If anything, she may have been even more so. Harry could let his brother fulfil the contract easily. Thomas wanted to, after all. Fleur, on the other hand, would have to let her kid-sister take the burden and, over the past few days, it had been made clear that Fleur cared for Gabrielle more than life itself.

"M-Marriage..." Harry repeated, his eyes widening. "You mean..." He gesture half heartedly to Fleur and back to himself.

"Not exactly..." Caroline answered, a frown on her face as the redhead debated what she was was hoping for. She certainly didn't want Harry to marry, but Fleur was one of her best friends... and she would say that the blonde _was_ her oldest friend. At Harry's confused expression, Caroline continued. "You can get out of the contract easily." She said, with a neutral mask donned. "But..."

"That'd mean giving it to the Little Shit." Harry inferred. "And you would have to marry 'the-boy-who-lived'." He addressed Fleur, who nodded.

"Oui." She sighed resignedly. Obviously that wasn't something she wanted. Who would?

"And what? Are there no clauses to get out of it?" Harry was under the impression that there were always clauses built in in order to break the marriage if the original intent fell through. "Surely they meant for it to be in your father's generation." The 6th year pointed out.

"There are," Jasmine replied. "But they require the agreement of both heads of house, for some reason." She tucked a strand of pink hair behind her ear, and continued with a scowl. "Your 'father' refuses to agree, since Thomas 'wants a Veela', and we all know how the boy-who-lived gets everything he could want."

"Shit." Harry groaned. "Wait a minute." He continued, with a confused frown. "How long have you known about this? If you've had time to find all that out..."

"How long have we known?" Jasmine squeaked, turning to Caroline, who stayed ever so lightly more composed, with a panicked expression. The red-haired girl, ignoring her rainbow-haired friend, replied, speaking slowly.

"Since the World Cup..." Harry's eyes flashed with annoyance, and he quickly stood.

"What?! And you didn't think to tell _me_?!" He exclaimed, as the chair he had been sat on was thrown back. Fleur, and seemingly only her, was more than a little unnerved by the anger he was showing, and then was very surprised by Jasmine's response, despite the Ravenclaw girl being worried about his reaction seconds before.

"Harry! Sit!" She ordered, as though the boy was a misbehaving puppy.

Harry sat.

Then, he realised what he had done and stood again, thoroughly distracted.

"Hey! You promised you'd stop doing that!" He complained, irritated. "I'm not a bloody dog!"

"You're right, Harry. We're sorry." Caroline said, with genuine sorrow. Though Harry would realise later that this may have been aimed at the previous argument.

With a grunt, Harry left in a huff, exiting the room and getting half way down the hall before something far more important occurred to him.

"Wait a minute! You've known about this for _months_?!"

* * *

><p><strong>See you all next time.<strong>

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	11. Gringotts

**Here's another one. The only chapter for about two weeks I'm afraid, since I'm in Florida on holiday for Half-Term and thus away from my computer. I hope you like the chapter, though, and **_**please**_** bear with me through the cliches in this one. In return for using a couple of overused points, though I don't think I've overdone them, this chapter's the longest so far at over 8k words.**

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Harry always forgot just how quiet the streets of Diagon Alley were during the school term. Or, at least, during the school term mid-morning on a saturday. Wizards slept in when they could, and so the early-risers on one of most people's days off were only just arriving. 9am was early for Harry, too. He had a habit of sleeping 'til noon whenever possible, and would have stayed asleep later had there not been the risk of missing two of the day's meals.

The shopping district _was_ a lot more pleasant without the rude, bussling Wizards and Witches barging each other out of the way. But that was more evident to Harry, because such large crowds felt unnatural to him; it made him feel claustrophobic and had, more than once, caused an incident where he floored a particularly annoying Wizard. He maintained that it wasn't his fault if one of the dumbasses almost got trampled. People should look where they're stepping, and shouldn't shove the angry Animagus.

Olivanders was closed. Not exactly surprising, since he had been told that the wand-weighing ceremony was taking place on Monday and that would be the busiest part of the kook's year until the influx of 11 year olds in the summer. Maxine's was just opening, and there had been a dozen or so diners in the Leaky Cauldron when he and his company had passed through, but, largely, there weren't enough patrons around to say for sure if the majority of stores were open or not.

The largest Wizarding Bank in Britain, however, was obviously open; Goblin guards were flaning the enterance, as the group approached. The Goblins, unlike Wizards, put the emphasis on hard work at all times, and didn't understand the concept of _sleeping in_.

That was fortunate, since there was another round of the 'talent show' this afternoon, and the Potters were only permitted to travel to Diagon Alley at this time of the day. Harry had to attend, apparently. Well, he didn't _have_ to, but a bunch of second years looked like they would cry if he didn't show up to watch them do whatever it was they said they were going to do. He wasn't _that_ cruel.

As Harry neared the massive doors, he felt a hand grasp him on the shoulder, Andrew's way of reminding him to keep his cool; despite having told him _several_ times on their way through Muggle London.

-()-()-()-

"_Harry," The tall Greengrass Patron began, calling the attention of the other male currenlty in his group, though they would pick up another member soon enough. "Are you going to be okay today?_"

"_What do you mean?" The boy asked, presuming it had to do with the Potters, but not knowing for sure._

"_In Gringotts." Andrew clarified. "I know you... _dislike_ the Potter family, but you _can't_ start a fight in Gringotts. It's one of the fundamental rules of our society. Even the most idiotic of Purebloods tread on eggshells, because it is _Goblin_ land. The Goblins believe they have every right to execute trouble makers, and the Ministry, despite its usual idiocy, knows thatc the life of a few wizards is _not_ worth another Goblin war and the damage it would cause."_

"_Okay... So I should wait until we get out of the bank." Harry smirked._

"_Harry..." The heavier man growled. "You need to take this seriously." He kept his tone low in order to avoid drawing attention to the pair, either from the muggles around him, or from the female members of their party walking a dozen paces ahead._

"_Andrew," Harry turned to face him, the seriousness of his tone betrayed by the amusement glinting in his eyes. "Do you _honestly _think that out of the people attending this meeting, that _I_ am the one dumb enough to insult _Goblins_? I have little to no respect for most _people_, but they're a different matter entirely. You don't have to worry about me aggravating them._" _It was rather obvious who he was reffering to, the-boy-who-lived tended to get angry very easily when somebody didn't show him the respect he 'deserved'. Harry also knew from experience that he got upset when you suggested that the respect he was desserving of was the same as a bag of excrement. "I promise, I'll wait until we get outside the bank." He grinned at his foster-father as the man tried to supress his own._

"_Fine, fine." Andrew Greengrass relented, as he failed to maintain a serious expression. "Just... bear it in mind, okay? I can't be in there with you to do damage control, remember."_

"_Alright, I will." Harry reassured, as he sped up to rejoin the girls._

-()-()-()-

On his other side he had a small, blonde ray of sunshine. Apparently Gabrielle had remembered him, though _how,_ Harry didn't know, since she perhaps caught a _glimpse_ of him during the World Cup, and had latched onto his left hand, stubbornly refusing to let go, as soon as she saw him, much to the reluctant amusement of her father, and the freely expressed amusement of everybody else.

It was a little embarrasing for Harry. Not at the moment, but because they had met up with the Delacours in Muggle London, and Harry had keen ears. Why would this result in him getting embarrassed? Because he could hear the _comments_ about him. He did not like being called 'cute'. He wasn't cute! He was scary!

On the flip side, Sebastian Delacour seemed to be in a foul mood. It was fair, Harry accepted, but annoying. It wasn't Harry's fault his daughter was in this situation, yet he was the recipient of the French man's glare. Harry was in just as lousy a situation, except for the fact that if _he_ passed on the contract, he'd be condemming Fleur, a girl that seemed very kind, if a little arrogant, to a life of being married to Jabba The Hut in human form. Jabba The Hut without the charm.

There was, however, a good chance that if he gave it to the little shit then the contract would be irrelevant in a couple of weeks. What were the chances of a spoilt, untalented brat surviving whatever they had lined up for the first task?

If they enforced the 'no cheating' rule, then there would be very, very little, and Harry wouldn't be inclined to intervene this time, if another, more worthy life was at stake. But they never did, and the Potters wouldn't let their prescious Lillian get an _ouchy. _After all, such _kind_ people would never let harm befall their child, right? Right? They would _never_ hurt their son. They would never _abandon_ him. And that just proved that they only had the one kid.

Harry stopped himself from carrying on down that train of thought, as the girl next to him stumbled over a loose cobblestone, and would have face planted had he not caught her momentum and swung her around, his right hand placed under her arm and quickly proppelling her up to sit on his shoulders. With a happy squeal, Gabrielle latched onto his scalp, and chattered away in rapid-fire French.

Harry missed the smiles his interaction inspired from each female behind him, and to an extent the males too, and definitely missed the subsequent glares that five of them exchanged, one in particular being rather... homicidal. Daphne was in a bad mood today.

Instead, the black haired lad focused on the problem at hand.

He _really_ needed to decide what he was going to do. There were only two options, as far as he could see. It should have been _easy_ to make a choice. But it wasn't. It really, _really_ wasn't.

When he had discussed the contract with Daphne, Tracy, Jasmine and Caroline, they had struck him as... upset. But why would they be sad? Was it because he was contemplating letting Fleur marry the brat? Was it because he had yelled at them quite a bit after finding out how long they'd known? Or was it something else entirely? When he'd asked Astoria, the only impartial friend, or more like a little sister, he had why the girls were upset, she had given him a weird look and siad some confusing things; speaking in weird riddles and giving what she had thought to be 'hints' but that confused the hell out of Harry, and gave him a headache.

Had he had time today, he would have asked Andrew, but their conversations had been focused on the matter at hand more than the moodiness of his daughter and foster daughters.

The fact that his go-to advisers in _this_ were unwilling to help him work out a solution, even Caroline, who was a good friend of Fleur not being willing to voice her opinion, Harry felt rather... stimied. He couldn't make a decision like this on his own, could he?

Well, it looked like he'd have to, Harry decided as he tuned back into what the cute girl atop his shoulders was regaling him with.

Was it just him, or did Diagon Alley seem quite long today?

-()-()-()-

Harry felt uncomfortable. Uncomfortable and awkward.

The Goblins, in an odd gesture of respect, had allowed him to come through to the waiting room. Probably just because he had greeted their teller in the Goblin tongue, and they appreciated a Wizard who had bothered to learn their language. Unfortunately, their idea of a waiting room was a small room; the ceiling being too low for him to stand properly, as they did not often find a wizard worthy of seeing the Goblin part of the bank, with a rather comfortable-looking pair of three seater sofas.

Occupying a settee each, were two aged goblins that demanded respect with their very presence, and Harry was not willing to sit next to either of them; meaning that he was stood, hunched, over near the door, wishing that he could be back out there with the others. He had not wanted to risk insulting the Goblins, as they were known to... overreact to anything they deemed a slight upon their honoiur. Unfortunately, when it came to Wizards, that tended to encompass virtually everything.

Thankfully, he had arrived only minutes before the appoiontment, in an effort to avoid any unnecessary time around his 'family', and so he and the Goblins, who he suspected had been talking about him in their hushed tones, did not have long to wait before a gruff voice grunted, in their tongue, that it was time to go on through.

Harry, following behind the two smaller figures, arrived outside a formal-looking, based on the solid oak door, room less than a minute later, his guides having navigated the maze-like corridors with shocking efficiency that showed just how well they knew their place of work. The two older beings, not bothering to wait for him, walked through the door with haste and took their seats at the raised portion of a circular table.

The room itself was a decent size, the plain brown table taking up a good portion but allowing anybody to comfortably walk the circumference of the round room. Across from the entrance he and the Goblins had used, another door stood open for the Potters, who walked through seconds later.

James Potter, the Head of House, was wearing the ridiculous formal wear that Wizards favoured; dress robes, as they were commonly known, that were a dark grey. Idiotic, but only because he was a Wizard, and they were all a little closed minded about changes in their stagnant society.

Lily Potter Nee-Evans was following behind her husband, and wore an emerald-green dress that clashed, in most people's eyes, though not Harry's, wonderfully with her red hair. She, too, was obviously appearing formal as much as possible, something that would have amused Harry were it somebody other than his parents entering the room.

He, too, was wearing smarter clothes than he was normally comfortable in, but his were of the muggle style. A bit irritating, but they _didn't_ hinder any movement, since the magical material they had been made with was designed to avoid any such restrictions. The coal suit was more to the philosophy of his hosts. Far more, in fact, since they had no ridiculous notions of going overboard with trying to look... presentable. Only humans did, after all.

Harry did, however, have to repress the urge to snort as the little brat followed in after his parents. Harry had thought the boy was getting thinner, but he obviously had just been hiding his gut while at school; something he was unable to do in red and gold, gods know why he chose to dress so ridiculously, set of dress robes that were too small for him.

The brat _swaggered_ in, a cocky smirk on his face as he walked right up to the nearest seat as flopped down into it.

Again, Harry was tempted to snicker at his idiocy.

"Thomas!" Lily shout-whispered at her youngest son, following her eldest's amused gaze to find he had ignored what they had _repeatedly_ told him about etiquette in the presence of Goblins. "_Stand up_!"

"Wuh? Why would I do that?" The moron frowned.

"Just do it!"

"Umm, okay..." He rose, and waddled, even if this may have been over exaggerated by Harry's perspective, over to join his parents.

"Well," One of the Goblins, who was slightly lower, Harry believed, than the other, began. "Now that everyone is present, I believe we may begin. Is this the case, Director Ragnok?" He asked of the other, in a respectful tone.

"Yes, GnarClaw." The now named director replied, before turning to the humans present. "You may be seated."

"Thank you, Director." Harry replied in a respectful tone, as he slowly sat in the chair nearest his previous, standing, position. His 'parents' did the same, expressing gratitude that, since it was for such an insubstantial thing, confused Thomas. But, in a rare moment of common sense, the boy held his tongue.

"First of all," GnarClaw began, turning to Harry as another goblin entered thanks to an unseen signal. "Would you please provide a drop of blood, in order to confirm you are, truly, Harry James Potter, Heir to the House Potter?" He asked, in an obvious non-question.

As Harry opened his mouth to reply that, of course, he would be willing to do so, the brat made it apparent that his common sense was temporary.

"What?! No! He isn't the heir!" He turned to look at his father. "Dad, you said that _I_ was the heir!"

"Well," James began in a quiet tone, glancing at the Goblin his son had no doubt annoyed. "You _are_ but it was never formalised. It takes time to change the line of succession."

"Then just disown him! It's simple!" He pointed a finger at Harry, who had the urge to snap it off. Instead, he chose to hope the Goblins were in a bad mood today, and would cut it off for him.

No such luck.

"It isn't that simple, Thomas." James hissed at his son. "There was no _valid_ reason to disown your brother and, frankly, I didn't want to! He is still our flesh and blood!" He continued, in a stern tone, shutting the brat up. If James tone didn't convince Harry of his sincerity, which it did not, then his wife's sorrowful look at her eldest _should_ have done so. Emphasis on _should_.

No, Harry believed that he knew exactly why he had yet to be disowned. Without just cause, the disinherited male heir was entitled to take a fraction of the family's wealth; the amount to be decided by their strength. Harry would have been able to take half the money and material goods of the Potter family; the upper limit of the policy. His _father_ wouldn't like that.

"If that interruption has run its course..." The Goblin shot a slight glare at the Fourth Year. "Please proceed." He waved his brethrin forward, and Harry outretched his left hand. The goblin pricked his index finger with an instrument, and a single drop fell to be caught on a piece of paper. It, somehow, spread across the page, and into Goblin-script. The pricker moved over to the Director and GnarClaw, and handed the parchment to Ragnok.

Glancing at the first line, he nodded to GnarClaw, and read through the rest while his subordinate continued. The pricker moved over to the trio after GnarClaw asked them to do the same as Harry, and it was found that James, Lily and Thomas were who they claimed to be. The senior Goblins, however, suddenly broke into a furious, whispered conversation, with Ragnok stabbing his finger reppeatedly at one of the pages.

While Harry could speak the tongue, it was far more difficult than French and, since he struggled to follow that when spoken quickly, he stood very little chance of understanding what the duo were saying. What Harry _did_ understand, however, was the _fear_ in the eyes as the unnamed Goblin who was staring at him while backing out of the door behind James, Lily and Thomas. Who knew Goblins could feel fear?

"Henry 'Harry' James Potter," Ragnok began, in a rasp. Why Henry was shortened to Harry, Harry would never know. "Heir to the house of Potter," Why would he announce that. "Heir apparent to the house of Black," Harry's eyes widened at this, nobody had told him anything about being named heir to Sirius if he died without a legitimate heir. Harry would bet that he had at least one illegitimate. Thomas, meanwhile, was a mixture of gobsmacked and furious. How dare Sirius name his arsehole of an older brother heir and not him?! "Now named Lord of houses..." The goblin took a gulp, as Harry's face paled considerably. He wasn't even 17! How could he be a _Lord_? Not to mention the fact that his fucking father was still alive! "Peverell," Harry vaguely remembered a bedtime story about the three brothers. That would just be a title though, right? They were around eons ago, Peverell couldn't hold any seats on the Wizengamot or anything, could they? "And..." The goblin's hands were _shaking_! The head of Gringotts, for crying out loud! Oddly, he was interrupted by his fellow.

"Hold on, Director. I believe that it would be innapropriate for this house to be named in front of _them_." He commented, pointing at the other three Potters.

"We're his parents," Lily spoke up, adressing the Goblins with a scowl. "We have a right to know anything concerning Harry!"

"Wrong." GnarClaw snorted. "The reason you are here today is his magical, and therefore legal, emancipation. You only 'have a right' to know what M- Lord Peverell wishes you to know. Unless he wishes you to stay, you must exit or we will be forced to remove you." The conversing parties looked to Harry.

"Nope." Harry said, simply, and ignoring the hurt expression on Lily's face.

"Very well." GnarClaw nodded. "Please leave immediately."

Lily Potter _was_ the most intelligent Witch of her age, and thankfully had the common sense to leave under the Goblin's fierce glare, dragging her other son behind her, and being followed by James. As the door clicked shut, the two Goblins turned to face the remaining human, each looking exceedingly wary before they began conversing once more.

This time, Harry caught snippets of their conversation. Though this didn't help the situation make any sense to the 6th year. He heard GnarClaw twice say. "It's not him. Look atv the boy." And Ragnok simply poke the sheet once more and retort "The blood never lies!" In a whispered hiss.

"Lord Peverell," GnarClaw began. "We have two more houses to name for you. One, the far less worrying, we have been long aware of, and have not divulged yet out of courtesy; you know our language and so we are willing to do this much in return, we concealed it because we believe it would cause unnecessary problems for you and yours. The other... well, we will need a g_ood _explanation as to how you have aquired this last title." The statement was accompanied by a thinly veiled threat. Even by Goblin standards.

"Okay..." Harry said, worriedly. This was not what he had been expecting today. "W-Well, what is the first?" He tried to hide his fear, knowing Goblins disliked such displays.

Yes, he was afraid. You try staring down two bloodthirsty Goblins.

"Firstly; you have been named Heir Apparent of house Greengrass." Again, Harry was gobsmacked. Why Andrew had never told him this, Harry would never know. This time, however, as he thought it through, it made sense. As Daphne often pointed out, girls had an unfair lot in life in the Wizarding world, and could not inherit Lordships. Harry was the closest Andrew and Adelaide had to a son, and Andrew's brother was the worst kind of Pureblood. Harry wasn't _happy _about it, but it would be easy to forgive his foster parents, or, at least, that was thee closest he could come to defining his relationship with Lord and Lady Greengrass.

"Right," Harry nodded. "And what is this... other one?" The Goblins did _not_ seem pleased.

"According to our records, and our records are _never_ wrong," Ragnok snarled. "You, Henry 'Harry' James Potter, are now Lord of the house... hm, it does not have any known translation, and the only previous head was never one to tell us his last name. He was more inclined to attempt to slaughter us each and every time he met any Goblin. The head is known, or at least _was_ known, since you appear to be the current head, Lucifer."

"...Lucifer?" Harry repeated, shocked. "As in _Satan_?"

"He is where the image of the Devil originated, yes. Would you care to explain why you are named as head of his house?" The Goblin was suspicious for sure.

"Uh..." He racked his brain, and came up with _an_ answer. Whether it was correct was yet to be seen. "Wait; was this 'Lucifer' a red Satyr? Lived in a weird casm-canyon thing? Had a fondness for killing little kids?"

"That is as good a decription as any, yes."

"Um... I kind of killed him." Harry said, honestly.

"You killed him..." Ragnok repeated slowly, as if to make sure he had heard right. "...How?"

"Well, he cornered me; hence I said he liked killing kids, in his house-casm. I would've died, but who would expect a human child to be able to turn into a 700 pound Sabre-tooth cat?" Better to tell them about his form than to get killed by a horde of angry, fearful Goblins.

The two Goblins present blinked, in unison, once.

Twice.

A third time.

And then each let out a mighty roar of... something, causing Harry to fall backwards off his chair; jumping out of his skin a the suddenness, not to mention the ferocity, of the noises.

Ragnok and GnarClaw fell silent as quickly as the noise had begun, and both faced Harry, on the floor, with feral grins. The director pulled out another sheet of parchment, and an ivory knife, with which he slashed across the palm of his gnarled hand, letting blood flow onto the sheet. This time, though Harry could not see it, the blood wrote out a 'decree' in the Goblin tongue, and the parchment vanished in a flash and Ragnok went back to grinning at Harry for a moment before the two snapped back to the situation at hand.

"Thank you, Harry James Potter; friend of the Goblins." Harry wasn't sure if that meant something, but he figured nodding back, with a polite smile, couldn't hurt.

Gnarclaw called out something in their gruff tongue, and the door swung open once more; permitting the Potters to re-join the estranged member, who had moved back to his seat on the opposite side of the table.

The parents wanted to ask what had happened, but had discussed it while waiting and decided it was not a good idea to do it while still in Gringotts. No, they would find a time to talk to Harry later. Now, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

"It has been confirmed that the attendees are James Dorea Potter, Lily Potter Nee-Evans, Henry James Potter, and Thomas Lillian Potter. This shows that all expected to attend at this time are present. Are there any complaints or questions at this stage in the proceedings?"

Nobody spoke up, so GnarClaw continued.

"Very well. Today you are attending to deal with the matter of the emancipation of Henry James and Thomas Lillian Potter, is this correct." Nods. "We are given to understand that this stage in the proceedings there is little dispute, yes? The Goblet of fire gives any selected the same rights as an adult, and so they are no longer deemed to be under your protection. Would either 'Champion' in question like to sign himself back into the care of his parents?"

James and Lily gave a pointed look to their children, and Thomas grumbled in response.

"Fine, fine. I would." He said, reluctantly; believing himself to be more than capable of living as an adult.

"Very well," GnarClaw responded, and scribbled a note in Goblin script. "We will process this after the proceedings are done. Lord Peverell?" He asked, turning to the newly named friend of his kind.

"Hm?" Harry asked.

"Are you re-signing yourself into their care?" Lily and James tried to give him the same look, and that _grated_ on Harry's nerves. He had had a _very_ good handle on his temper so far today, but their trying to treat him like he was still a child. Like he was _their_ child. That pissed him off.

"No." He grunted, choosing a simple answer. He _wanted_ to explain that he had not been their child for many a year, but that would lead to the emotions bubbling to the surface, and leaving a messy, brown haired red smudge in the Goblins' nice, clean room might not be appreciated.

"I contest!" Lily spoke up, frustrated.

"On what grounds?" GnarClaw asked, in a tone that suggested boredom.

"He is my son!" She exclaimed, with a scowl at the Goblin for even asking such a question.

"That does not change the fact that he is, by law and magic, an adult. If you do not have a legitimate contest, please cease in the needless interruption that lengthens a straightforward case."

"Needless? _Needless_?" The redhead hissed. "He is my child! My son! I won't let you-" She was interrupted by a loud _thud_ echoing through the room, and looked up to see Harry's knuckles denting the wood of the table, a look of loathing directed at his _mother_.

"_You gave up any right to call me that a decade ago_! I AM NOT YOUR SON BY ANYTHING BUT BLOOD!" He growled, then roared; two of his forms craving blood. Well, being more obvious about wanting vengeance to be delivered onto the boy's so called family, anyway. He took a series of deep breaths and focused on her again, a calm mask being betrayed by glowing green eyes. "The _only_ reason I have not renounced the name Potter is that I have respect for my ancestors, and refuse to leave the future of my once noble family to _him_." He sot a dark look at the pale Thomas Potter, before glancing at the damaged table and away from the shocked Potters; he had never _really_ told them what he felt about them until now. And he didn't feel anything pleasant for his _family_.

"I am sorry, Ragnok, for the damage. I meant no disrespect in my anger, and will gladly pay for the repairs." The old Goblin grinned toothily at him, and replied.

"Nonsense, Harry," He took the use of the first name to mean they were on those terms now, and Harry did not mind. "That was the most amusing spectacle I have seen in years. It is of no importance; in fact, I will pay for the damage myself." The Potters would not register, until later on that day, that the leader of the Goblins was far more... agreeable than they had ever heard of him being towards a human being.

"You have my gratitude."

"That... appears to have made Lord Peverell's position rather clear on the matter. If there are no other objections..." Nobody spoke up. "Okay, then. Are there any other, related matters, that you wish to ask of we Goblins?"

"Yes," James Potter cleared his throat, as his colour returned. "Thomas Potter wishes to dispute Harry's claim to the title of Lord Peverell and the title of heir to the Potter line. He believes he has the better claim to them both." The Goblin grunted, and turned his gaze on the boy.

"And what are your reasons for believing this?"

"He is not a true Potter, for starters." He stated, almost convincingly. "He has not lived at Potter manor for eleven years!"

"That has no relevance to whether or not Lord Peverell," Harry believed GnarClaw said that to get under Thomas's skin. "Is a 'true Potter'. Do you have any relevant arguments?"

"Uhh... He... He does not fulfil the criteria for being head of House!" He guessed.

"Incorrect. The only criteria for being the Head of house Potter is to be capable of reproduction. Lord Peverell has no issues in the act of procreation." He looked down his nose at the chubby boy, and continued. "Your case for disputing Lord Peverell's claim is dismissed. You may challenge for the line after our session is complete, if you so wish, but be warned that Lord Peverell will be entitled to add his own stakes to such a challenge. Present your case for Henry James Potter's claim to the Peverell Lordship."

"I know this one," Thomas said, with a smug look on his fat little face. "Dad's told me before that the stronger of heirs, for their stage in life, is the one that gets the claim."

"And?" GnarClaw asked.

"And I'm obviously stronger!" The-boy-who-lived replied, indignantly.

"Case dismissed." GnarClaw didn't dignify the statement with a response. "Once again, you are entitled to challenge at a later time." Harry believed they wanted the brat to challenge him, as there was no reason for the Goblins to be reminding him that he was allowed to challenge Harry to combat.

"Are there any other disputes?" No answer, and so the Goblin scribbled something a=else, before looking up again.

"Okay, you are dismissed, but I would like to remind you that the next Gringotts case involves the Potter line once more; in the marriage contract between Houses Potter and Delacour." Thomas Potter grew furious at the mention in front of his dickhead brother, and leapt to his feet.

"You weren't supposed to tell _him_!" He yelled at GnarClaw, before turning on Harry. "That Veela is _mine_!" He turned and stormed out of the room in a strop, just catching the snort from his older sibling that aggravated the 'celebrity' further.

-()-()-()-

An hour later, the mood of the-boy-who-lived was not any better.

_His_ Veela was sat next to the bastard that always stole his thunder! And another Veela, admittedly a tad young for Thomas' taste, was sat on Harry's lap, while the male Delacour was sat to Harry's right and the female sat to Fleur's left.

Harry had sat first, so he wasn't to blame for where everybody was seated. Fleur could easily have sat with two empty chairs next to her, and one of them could have had Gabrielle, but she didn't. Plus, Sebastian had overheard Harry telling Andrew, disgustedly, about Thomas calling Fleur _his_. That had, quite successfully, turned the man's ire off of Harry and on to the Brat; knowing that Thomas wanted to _own_ his daughter. Something he had put countless hours into campaigning against in his own country. He did not do that just to lose his own flesh and blood to a disgusting English child.

No; as the Goblin, GnarClaw Harry had called him, began, Sebastian Delacour was glaring at the family across from him with a fire in his eyes. The three were lucky the Goblins were present, and that the Delacour father was not willing to make a scene in front of their hosts. Both because that would be a stupid idea, and for the reason that he prided himself on his social skills and the manners that he had passed onto his daughters.

If he had been able, the father of two would have begun throwing curses on top of hexes by now. The excuse of being a child only went so far. A 14 year old was plenty old enough to know better, and the Frenchman believed that somebody should teach him a lesson. Luckily, he had heard something on the way in that gave him hope that day would be today. Even if he was not to be the one delivering the lesson, Sebastian had seen the-boy-who-lived's older brother in action, and knew that it would be an enjoyable sight; seeing the disgusting child get what's coming to him.

At the same time, Harry was paying attention to the overseeing Goblins, both of whom had the eternal scowls of their kind. They were the best way for him to avoid contemplating whether he was making the right decision today.

They hadn't changed over after the Triwizard case, since he couldn't think of a better name for the fiasco, and Harry was very surprised. Why would the _Director_ oversee one, let alone two, cases that were rather simple from where the Potter heir, officially now, stood?

At least this time it was amusing to see his brat of a brother invent new shades of red, or was it purple, as Fleur sat next to him, and Gabrielle sat on his lap. As weird as it was to have a little girl, who really had very little reason to be as trusting of him as she was, sat on his lap, Harry saw it as a fair trade to annoy the little shit as much as he was. As long as the father Delacour kept his annoyance focussed on said annoyed 4th year, that is.

GnarClaw gave a strange grunting noise, that Harry interpreted as the clearing of his throat, and drew the attention of most of the room onto him; only two of them, who happened to be the youngest, kept their focus elsewhere.

"As I am sure you all know," The Goblin began. "We are here today to discuss the recently activated contract between houses Delacour and Potter. We Goblins are given to understand that the parties obliged to fulfil this contract are somehow up to date?" The magical creature stated in a slight questioning tone. He directed this, in particular, to the three Potters on one side of the table; retaking the place they had been designated in the previous proceedings, to avoid any violence.

"Not as far as I understand it, master Goblin." James Potter replied, in a respectful tone as he nervously glanced at Thomas, who was still a bright red. "As your records no doubt show, I am the one who inquired on the contract, and I signed it on behalf of Thomas Potter."

Something about this statement, for reasons Harry did not know, inspired a triumphant grin in said Potter; though the effect was lessened by the fact that he was still very much coloured from his previous anger.

"Yes," GnarClaw replied. "Our records do show that." He paused here, and Harry could practically feel the panic coming from Fleur next to him. "But I do not see the relevence in that fact. Your youngest does not have the claim to this contract unless the Heir Potter chooses to pass on the contract. So, I believe that the question that we should be asking is quite clear." He turned to face Harry, with a barely supressed grin at the surprisingly entertaining events unfolding before him.

"Heir Harry Potter, of House Potter; do you accept his contract of marriage to Heiress Fleur Delacour, of House Delacour?"

All eyes fell onto Harry, and he opened his mouth to respond.

-()-()-()-

**What do you think?**

**Should I end it there?**

**It's certainly tempting, but I reckon I'd get some well-earned abuse, and I don't really want to leave this scene too much longer; the chapter's already the longest one I've posted, after all. I don't want to drag it out.**

**So here you go. Feel free to thank me. Or worship me; that, too, would be welcome.**

**I take human sacrifices.**

**Or bacon.**

**On second thought, just bacon.**

-()-()-()-

Fleur Delacour, Heiress to her house, and the Noble, though not Ancient, French line of Delacour, was doing her best to swallow. Just to reassure herself that she still _could_. She tried to focus on the now softly snoring form of her sister, or on her mother's comforting holding of her hand, or even the pale skin of her father; who, like her, was nervous as all hell.

What was he going to say?

What was her fate?

As much as she was angered by the idea of being _given_ to anybody; and that was what these contracts were for people like her. Well, not _people_ technically, but Veela. The arranged marriages were _old_, and the bigotry of the wizarding world was prominent in each and every one. She was getting off topic, though. As much as she disliked the idea, Harry Potter was... something else.

Not in a bad way. No, she had nothing but nice words to say about her fellow 6th year, other than a slight aloofness she had noted. Nor did anybody else, for that matter.

Harry was a different person to anybody she had ever met. From the rumours she had heard, and Caroline had not outright denied, the Potter heir had had a _rough_ life. He had grown up ignored by his family in favour of his younger brother, who had grown in to the unremarkable slob across from her, but he could stand to be in the same room as them.

How?

She had no idea. Was he just unbelievably kind and forgiving? Not from what she had seen and heard; he had put plenty of Dark Wizards down like the dogs they were, and had not forgiven the Potters, or even come close for that matter. That was not a hallmark of an overly optimistic Wizard.

Was he emotionless? Had he become a Psychopath thanks to his need for strength and survival? No. He had definitely shown emotion in front of her; though admittedly less pronounced than most would be in his place, and was almost obvious about it in the company of the Hogwarts girls he was so oblivious about. He had feelings, and was willing to risk his life to save her family, and later her schoolmates, without a second thought.

Maybe it was just self control.

Her friend had hinted at that being the case, if Fleur remembered correctly. The Beauxbatons champion took the small comments to mean that Harry felt like a caged animal; though why he would feel that way, she did not know.

The beauty was snapped out of her reverie, suddenly, as a single word rang through the chamber and broke the anxious silence.

"Yes." Harry answered, voice calm and not betraying any of his own anxiety at the commitment he was entering in to.

"Yes?" GnarClaw repeated. "Please be clearer in what you are saying."

"I, Harry James Potter, Heir of House Potter, agree to the contract set forth by my Paternal grandfather to be engaged to be married to Fleur Delacour of House Delacour." He clarified, voice barely wavering.

Whether or not he would have said any more was suddenly unknowable, as Harry felt a pleaswent haze settle over his being, focused on his eyes, and the world suddenly became so very... pretty. He, embarrassingly, let out a low purr as he turned to face the source of such a wonderful feeling, and found himself leening towards the relieved girl, before his brow sank in to a frown, and he shook his head like a wet dog. Head cleared, he noticed the state of his 'Brother' and Father'; not to mention a suddenly furious Lily Potter.

Thomas was, simply put, a vegetable. His jaw had gone slack, his eyes glazed over like the most decorated doughnuts in all the land, and drool was running down his chin to pool on the tabletop.

James, while in a better state than his son, was still unused to the influence of a Veela and the brief moment of delight from Fleur was enough to slacken his expression and force him to stare intently at the 6th Year girl.

Paying no heed to the humans and their reactions to another creature, GnarClaw continued.

"And does Heiress Fleur Delacour accept?"

"Oui." Fleur said, in a relieved sigh.

"Very well. We are done here." GnarClaw said, before his attention was brought to his superior through a clearing of the throat. Ragnok tapped the paper in front of the two; reminding his subordinate of something he had mentioned in the trial prior. "Ah, yes. I believe that Mr. Thomas Potter wished to challenge the claims of Heir Harry Potter." Harry would be known only as Heir until he was finished with his full time education.

"Damn right I do! She's mine!" The afformentioned idiot exclaimed as he stood suddenly.

"I was referring," GnarClaw snarled at the disrespectful brat. "To the claims to be heads of houses Potter, Peverell, Bl-"

"Yes! I contest that too!" The still standing 4th year yelled. "I challenge you through right of combat for your lands and titles!" Whatever his parents would have said was cut off by the bestial grin of his elder brother, and the verbal response.

"Accepted. In an effort to have a fair contest, I demand that Mr. Thomas Potter be compelled, upon losing, to make a public apology to any and all he has offended and/or upset in his time attending Hogwarts."

"Agreed!" How could he possibly lose? He was the boy-who-lived.

"Very well," GnarClaw had given up on suppressing his grin now. "As both parties agree to the terms of contest and the reward delivered to the victor, I ask what the terms of the bout shall be. We just so happen to have a free slot open in 10 minutes, if you wish to immediately settle this dispute. The choices are to the death, to surrender, to inability to continue, a combination of these two options, or in a more formal duel. Which will you choose?" He asked the fighters, sharp teeth showing.

"A combination." Harry replied, along with a nod from his younger sibling.

"Very well; shall we move to the area of combat?"

-()-()-()-

Sloppy.

That was how Harry would describe Thomas' form. He could, just about, pass for a duellist; not shocking since his father was an Auror, but in an actual fight it was pathetic.

A high centre of gravity showed he had no intention of dodging the attacks of his far stronger opponent. His wand, held in a far too tight grip showed he was either too emotional or wholly unaware of the fact that he would struggle to produce any spells like that. A rigid body, or at least as rigid as blubber could get, showed that he would go on the attack through the fight.

And that wasn't even taking in to account the fact that the boy looked to be out of breath.

No, Harry was well aware of the fact that this fight would be an easy win for him; it was barely worth his time being here, but he wasn't fighting, today, for the sake of fighting. He was fighting because the brat had challenged him; believing, for the simple reason that he had been raised as though he could do no wrong, that he would be victorious in this duel against his superior.

Maybe this would teach him some humility.

Though Harry wouldn't bet on it.

"Begin!" Gnarclaw interrupted Harry's train of thought with a bark; acting as the 'referee' for this fight as anybody else would have reason to be biased. He did too, but there was no way for Thomas to know that, since even Harry did not know that the Goblins were now supporting him against the others and that, in fact, he was now considered a very ugly Goblin. It was fortunate that they did not take looks into account anywhere near as much as humans; meaning that Harry did not have any points against him for being so unattractive in the eyes of Goblin-kind.

Thomas began, leaping in to action with an unnecessary flourish of his wand, and a loud exclamation, in a disarming spell that _woosh_ed towards his older brother. Harry let it fly at him, the fact that it was only a little off centre mass showing Harry that the brat wasn't _completely_ worthless. The fact that he proved to be more than a chimp trained to wear clothes and be obnoxious, however, made little difference to Harry's attitude towards this fight. His brother should have realised from the getgo that he stood no chance, but that fact that, even after this next move, he had no idea showed that he was only a _bit_ more than a trained ape.

Harry leaned. Tilted his body at an angle, and watched the red light flash by and splash against the bare wall behind him, and then righted himself again; all in the space of three heartbeats. Like a cat, Harry thought to himself as he smirked.

To be fair, his brother reacted soon enough and fired another spell; a stunner this time, which Harry stepped out of the way of as he saw the boy begin the motion of the spell and watched fly past him, much like the _Expelliarmus_ before it.

Another yell of "_Expelliarmus_!" Came after, and his brother smirked confidently as Harry didn't doge, apparently forgetting the existence of the _shield_ charm.

"_Protego."_ Harry said, calmly, as the spell neared him and splashed harmlessly against the shimmering wall of his shield. The older boy smirked at his brother; infuriating his opponent massively purposefully. This was, of course, his objective, and the smirk spread into a grin as he watched the colour engulph Thomas' cheeks again. It was an amusing sight.

Stepping aside as the less experienced boy threw another spell, this one being _Incarcerous_, and ropes flew at Harry, who flicked his wrist again and sent an weak severing charm to neutralise the binding attempt, before responding with an even more harmless spell.

The cheering charm, purposefully overpowered, knocked Thomas over as he guffawed, before it was removed with another swish of Harry's wand, before the still giggling 4th year was hoisted up into the air by his ankle, and dropped on his head.

"_Impedimenta._" The boy was flung back again, as he began to stand, and Harry sent another impediment jinx at him, then changed it up a little.

"_Incendio_!" The boy's robe caught on fire, and he let out a girlish yelp, and jumped to his feet. The idiot dropped his wand in a panic, and Harry watched with a grin as Thomas began running in circles. In a show of slight... sadism, or something like that, looked over at the boy's parents' who grew panicked at the sight of their son alight.

That grew old quickly, and Harry saw the uncomfortable expression that Mrs. Delacour had donned, and gave a exhasperated sigh.

"_Augmenti_." The, so far, victor of the duel sent an overpowered jet of water at the boy, and knocked him off his feet and into an unintentional roll.

"_Accio wand._" The wand came flying into Harry's outstrentched hand, and he looked over to the Goblin watching with a small amount of amusement.

"The victor is Lord Peverell! The public appoplogies demanded will be fulfilled at a date of his choosing!"

That would be fun. The little brat would have to apologise to each and every member of Slytherin house, the foreign schools, and just about everyone else; he was that much of a douche .

Harry would make him start with Draco Malfoy.


	12. Apologies, Wands and Ferrets

**Here's another chapter. Sorry about the delay; other than the holiday, subsequent jetlag and general demotivation of being back at Sixth Form, I've been waiting until I had all three fanfics I'm writing ready for another update. I gave up when I realised the writers block on my PJO fic isn't going away any time soon. Not that I'm abandoning it; more like pouting and staring at the screen until my annoying brain kicks back into gear.**

**Something I feel like I need to say here on the off chance someone makes an assumption based on the fact that Ginny's in this chapter is that there is no chance _at all_ of her and Harry being involved; just the same as with Hermione. I didn't dislike Ginny per say, but I have a list of grievances about the way JK Rowling went with her pairing of characters that I won't add in here because I doubt any of you care all that much. But, most importantly in this story; she's what? 13? 14, tops? I don't want to write something like that. Nope! Not touching that with a ten-foot snooker cue.**

**On a more serious note; not that I much like being serious, people have asked why Harry's 'a bitch' in front of the girls. That's basically because I've read a lot of stories where he (or the male protagonist) is basically an alpha and treats whatever girls he ends up with like shit. I don't like that relationship-dynamic, so I'm writing a Harry more compatible with what I want to achieve. He's not going to be submissive or anything, but he's more... comfortable around the girls than around people he generally perceives as a threat. So... yeah. **

**Anyway, here's the chapter. It's basically preceding the first task; which will (probably) be next chapter.**

**-()-()-()-**

What was the old cook muttering about now?

Olivander was inside the school, though Harry was wondering if they had done a thorough background check on the very, _very_ weird man, with the champions, headmasters, and some unnerving reporter lady inside an unused classroom. He had moved past Krum and Fleur's wands easily enough; the only interesting tidbit being that Fleur's wand held the hair of a Veela... her grandmother, and had chosen to move on to the-boy-who-lived thirdly. The younger Potter was stood in front of him while Olivander held the Holly wand up to his eye level.

From the whispered snatches of English that actually escaped the bug-eyed man's mouth, instead of just being nonsensical muttering, Harry gathered that the feather in Thomas' wand was from the same phoenix that gave one to Riddle. Harry, not for the first time, found amusement in the fact that his bratty brother had, inadvertently, been named after Voldemort himself. He also wondered whether these two facts would be enough for the wizarding world to turn on Thomas once again; it almost certainly would for the school.

Even so, the fact that they shared a source of cores meant very little to the older Potter, and so he wondered why the old man would find it so interesting. Of course, the wand-maker likely knew of, if he hadn't, in fact, seen the effect itself, Priori Incantatem; but Harry did not.

With a wave of the Holly wand, producing a crystal clear jet of water, the man announced that it was in working order with a happy grin; evidently he found the process thrilling. Harry smirked at the joy the man would likely receive from his own wand, were there enough time for a proper examination, and the dissapointment Olivander would likely receive at not having time enough.

"And the elder Mr. Potter?" He half asked, waving Harry forward with an expectant expression.

As the black haired teen approached, flicking his wrist to produce the wand from its safe position inside a well-worn holster, the man's gaze predictably focused on the Ash wand hanging loosely at Harry's side. Once he was within arm's reach of the man, Harry flipped the wand over and presented it to Olivander butt first; not hesitating as he knew the frail old man, should he choose to attack, would be rendered unable with a single punch. Hell, he looked like a soft breeze would do it.

Without any word of thanks, the man set about examining the seemingly harmless stick; to any muggles, at least, in his hands. The others may have been confused by the befuddled frown on his brow, but Harry knew well why he looked so lost.

"I do not recognise this craftsmanship..." Olivander clarified, unintentionally, for the others. He looked at the tall teen, and his frown increased further when Harry gave no response. "Would you please tell me which wandmaker created it?"

"Why? Is there something the matter with my wand?" Harry asked, putting on a worried tone of voice and expression, and effectively hiding the amusement that had threatened to break across his face.

"No, no," Olivander corrected himself, hastily. Likely to avoid offending the wand, or discrediting fine work. "Not at all. It is in excellent condition. I was just wondering is all; a matter of professional curiosity."

It would be easy to simply shoot the man down, and Harry considered doing just that, but it would be so much more fun to provide himself with amusement at Olivander's, and others', expense. Nothing harmful, of course. Just a bit of misdirection.

"I'm afraid that I promised I wouldn't give away his identity. He made it personally for me, but did not want to be pestered for future services. He only made me one because a man in my family saved his life once upon a time. That is the typical cause of life-debts, I'm sure you are aware." Not a lie, technically. "I can, however, tell you that he currently resides in this very building." Again, true, though misleading.

Their were several reactions to this statement. One such, and the more annoying of them, was from Thomas, who Harry could practically see demanding to have a wand made for himself, and having a fit over the fact that his brother was the one this mystery man made a wand for. Olivander, Dumbledore and Madame Maxine, however, looked curious, while the reporter lady resembled a vulture who had stumbled across a baby's carcass. Karkaroff, Krum and the cameraman looked indifferent, while Fleur simply continued to watch the beautiful wand as Harry removed it from the man's grip.

It was certainly an odd one. While it appeared to be made primarily of the wood from an ash tree, there were darker patches, that she could not quite discern, and a single, twisting, Ivory spiral running up the length. It was not often that a wand was patterned, and even less that they seemed to be from a separate material.

"Right, well... I believe we are all done?" The wandmaker suggested, glancing at Dumbledore, who nodded; deferring to the man's expertise. It showed Olivander's, and the other people present's, distraction that he did not announce the core of Harry's wand, and seemed to forget his previous examination.

"Very well, then," Dumbledore began calmly, as he turned to the younger 4 in the room. "Champions, you are dismissed." The Hogwarts' headmaster stated, giving a smile to the students and gesturing to the door. The man with the camera shot to his feet with a panicked expression, and the vulture-woman spoke up.

"Photographs, Dumbledore! We must get photographs, and preferably interviews with the champions?" Her gaze rested on Thomas, who's chest puffed up in response, before deflating spectacularly when her gaze drifted over to Harry hungrily.

"Ah. Of course Miss Skeeter." Dumbledore accepted, reluctantly.

What followed was a tedious affair, in which the photographer and the Skeeter woman were arguing over who to put at the forefront of the exhibition. It was extremely odd, to Harry, that the only one who was not being constantly yanked forward was Krum; the famous Quiddich player. He could, however, understand the amusement that just about showed on the surly boy's face. It must be nice to be the sole champion not having his shoulder yanked out of its socket.

This was followed by a disturbing experience that Harry would not be likely to forget any time soon.

The creepy woman _sauntered_ up to him, and batted too heavy eyelashes in what she clearly believed to be a charming manner. Worse, however, was the assault on Harry's sense of smell that accompanied her. She was wearing far too much of a far too strong perfume, and Harry felt the inside of his nose burn. The shock, however, prevented him from avoiding the woman, who looked to be old enough to have mothered him, as she leaned in close and whispered to the black haired boy.

He did not ever want to think about, let alone _repeat_ the _vulgar_ suggestion she whispered to him; propositioning him to follow her into the small closet for an interview and some, in her mind, _fun_. The woman was fortunate, to say the least, that Harry had such good control, or he may well have vomited on the disgusting reporter. As it was, Harry was fairly sure his only reaction was turning a tad green, or at least he imagined he coloured as such, before he turned and walked over to Fleur, shuddering as he heard a disappointed moan.

Needless to say, when he found a business card in his back pocket later that day, explaining the woman's inappropriate touching of his rear, Harry was appalled, and ever so slightly concerned for Thomas Potter. He doubted that she had taken him into the closet for such a reason, but Thomas was only 14, after all. Combined with his arrogant stupidity, the boy likely would not know any better.

Maybe _she_ was the one they should have checked out before letting her in to the school. Olivander's creepiness paled in comparison to Rita Skeeter.

-()—()—

Harry needed to clear his head. For some reason Daphne, Tracy, Jasmine and Caroline were acting weirdly; sometimes talking normally, sometimes dodging him and other times being overly friendly. To varying scales, of course; there was a huge difference between an overly enthusiastic Jasmine and Daphne.

That was why the animals of the forest were in a tiff, and very, very nervous.

Hell, if you had an oversized Sabretooth tiger running rampant through your home, you'd be nervous too. Harry wasn't hungry, luckily, and instead was just letting out some steam. As he wore himself out, crashing through a particularly tough and large group of foliage seemed to do the trick, Harry let his instincts take over far more than he commonly allowed. What could he say? It was relaxing to have a so much simpler thought process.

A week later, however, Harry would regret his decision immensely. His animal half saw no reason to venture nearer to the exotic, worrying smells coming from a segment of the forest. Why would he purposefully risk a fight with dragons?

Thus, he did not find out that night that, inside the already dangerous woods, there was something he _really_ should have known about.

-()-()-

Hmm.

It hadn't occurred to Harry before, but he seriously lacked in the friends department.

Sure, he had a lot of vague associates, but his general policy of having no trust for humans prevented gaining many new friends and, with the girls, he didn't ever need any. They were always around, and he enjoyed their company much more than that of the average human. Even before he became aware of their attractiveness.

Now, though, he was sat in an extremely uncomfortable position.

Fleur; he was becoming fine with the idea of an increased level of intimacy, just about. Even so, that was far less than the others, who he had long since become comfortable with. The same could be said for Lady Greengrass, and Astoria, who he trusted also. Gabrielle, well she was an innocent little girl. Contact with her didn't make Harry uncomfortable.

But some random Ravenclaw girl, who was wearing an abundance of foul perfume and sitting far too close to him for comfort? Almost like she wanted to climb in to his lap? He was not comfortable with that.

In fact, he was contemplating snapping the extremely promiscuous girl's neck. He wouldn't do it, of course; that would cause a scene, but Harry could fantasize.

He could, however, _do_ something else. The raven haired teen smirked ever so slightly as he glanced down at the cauldron in front of him, and he reached for a dark green plant, a rosy red root and a long, thin knife.

Five minutes later, the classroom had been cleared thanks to a makeshift smoke bomb exploding mid lesson. From one of the most talented brewers in the school, in fact. Fortunately, Snape wouldn't think to punish one of his Slytherins and had decided that, somehow, the Weasley twins must be responsible.

Nobody would question his judgement, either. Even if he had had it out for the pair since that first talent show earlier in the year, Fred and George tended to be responsible for most everything that went wrong in regards to their year.

As Harry was weighing the odds of the two red heads pranking Snape this year; the tension was building, after all, he heard a slight chatter approach from the nearest end of the hallway, while a murmur spread from the other males in his class. Turning to check what was incoming, and wondering if the class's luck was lousy enough for Peeves to stumble upon them, Harry's eyebrows raised visibly at the sight of 20-odd Third years walking quickly towards them, with Professor Babbling leading them.

He understood well why there had been a murmur from his peers at the sight of the female Professor. She was... attractive. Not that Harry had noticed before this year, but it was now painfully obvious to him and, with the lack of guilt that came from ogling his friends and, for some reason, fiancé, Harry found her, along with Sinistra and Vector, rather distracting at times.

No wonder so many more boys had taken the courses at OWL level than NEWT.

"Oh, well this looks like a big mess." The dark haired witch commented, as Snape gave the group a look of acknowledgement. Well, a look of acknowledgement for Snape; anyone else would perceive it as a sneer.

"It is." Snape said in reply, turning his attention back to his smoke filled classroom with a look of loathing not meant for the Potions room. "Is there something you need?"

"Oh, well," Babbling took this in a way that Snape certainly did not mean, and began with a smile. "A window in our classroom was unfortunately broken in a failed runic carving. You know how it is when they become unstable." She smiled reassuringly at a girl who, evidently, was the perpetrator. "Because of this, we decided that it would be worth finding a new one to escape the breeze since we have another period after this one. Are you going to do the same?" She asked the greasy haired man, who refrained from snarling long enough to shake his head.

"Ah. I guess you only have them for the one period, hmm?" Snape nodded, and gave a grunt-dismissive noise. "Well," Her eyes roamed over the students, looking for one in particular, and locked on to Harry; inspiring a smirk in the woman. "If you're done with him, I'd love to borrow Mr Potter for a demonstration." When she received no response, the black haired beauty beckoned to Harry and walked off, the third years following in her wake as Harry shrugged and did the same.

It only took a few minutes to reach the classroom Professor Babbling had in mind, and Harry was soon stood at the front of the class as the younger students each found a seat and sat attentive. Most of them had heard of the older Potter's prowess in this subject, and all recognised the popular 6th year from the selection of champions. Especially since the challenge was drawing so near; it had become a bit of a game to see which champion would gain the most obvious, and extreme, tell of stress.

Harry, however, only recognised the one of them; a red haired girl, who sat there with an adoring expression aimed at him in, what Harry guessed, was hero worship, since she was well known to have a bit of an obsession with anyone famous or popular; key example being Thomas Potter. He had last interacted with her when he carried the girl out of the Chamber of Secrets during his 4th year.

When everyone seemed to be prepared, the professor spoke up.

"Well, class, every cloud has a silver lining. It is unfortunate that Miss White's rune went rather spectacularly wrong, but without it we would not have run in to Mr Potter this afternoon and you would not have the chance to see the true power of runes from a fellow student." A grin broke across her face; showing perfect, straight teeth and the teacher gestured to Harry. "I am going to leave the details up to Mr Potter as to how he demonstrates this, but first," She turned to him. "Would you mind showing a full, and correct, camouflaging rune for the class, Mr Potter?"

"'Happy to." Harry replied, before drawing his wand easily. The sixth year walked to the nearest student, who happened to be Ginny Weasley, and placed the tip of the wand against her forehead. "Now, hold still. It'd be a shame if something happened to that head of hair." He winked at the girl, who paled at the thought of going bald and froze.

Harry, with careful motions so as not to give the younger teens the impression that runes were easy for just anyone, moved his wand in a kite shape, and drew what seemed to be little more than a squiggle going vertical inside it. He removed the wand, then tapped the rune with the stick once more.

Before her fellows' eyes, Ginny Weasley changed colour; the individual colours depending on what height that part of her body was currently resting at. Most of her midsection was the brown of her desk, her head and tied back hair the yellow of the wall next to her, and her feet and legs the grey of the stone floor.

"And there we go. Not particularly impressive, but useful in the right situation. Imagine how hard it would be to find someone with this rune if they were hidden in the forest."

Next, he waved his wand over the girl and she faded back in to the black of her uniform and the clashing red hair; still frozen stiff.

"So my choice?" He asked Professor Babbling, who nodded. Harry, a slightly sadistic grin spreading across his face, cracked his neck. The class, as a collective, gulped nervously.

Five minutes later, the third years were all frozen in various contortionist-like poses that they certainly would not have been able to achieve ordinarily; each with a single rune drawn on to the floor beneath them. It was no easy feat making such a specific ward scheme but, since Harry had invented them, it was far easier for him than it would be for any other.

-()-()-

This was beginning to really annoy Harry.

Were they angry with him or not? He could not figure it out.

He would frequently catch the girls, Daphne especially, glaring over at where he sat with Fleur, only for the expression to be replaced with an obviously fake, pleasant smile when they saw him looking.

Maybe they were annoyed that he wasn't sat with them, but what was he supposed to do? Fleur was his betrothed; he wanted to get to know her better and, preferably, her family too. The only family she had with her at Hogwarts was her cousin, and her cousin was, rightly, intimidated by Daphne's reputation and so it was best not to overwhelm her. Not to mention the fact that two Veela and Harry attracted plenty of attention without four of the most attractive girls in the three schools combined.

The black haired lad put it out of his mind, for the moment, and turned back to the situation at hand.

The girl, her name escaped him for the moment, was staring at Harry with an astonished expression. Fleur had just broken the news to her, and Harry supposed that this was a fair reaction. The situation was very strange, and clearly she had not expected her cousin to tell her that she was to marry the boy who had saved her, and her classmates, not a month previously.

He wondered how Fleur's cousin would react, once she recovered from the surprise.

"_Congratulations_!" She squealed, in the two cousins' native tongue, surprising Harry greatly; he had not expected _that_ to be the response. She even looked happy, sounding genuine as she wished them well. Fleur, too, seemed to be smiling about the situation. Maybe she was just placating her cousin. Yes, that would make sense. Harry was certain, after all, that the situation must be truly upsetting to Fleur.

The two began conversing, in the time that Harry had been zoned out with a slight frown, in rapid French. While he should have been able to follow once he zoned back in to the conversation, Harry's confusion was still present and the two had, somehow, moved on to dresses in that time; it was an inherent trait in Veela to wish to flaunt their beauty, and a bride had a free pass to do just that. The lone male in this part of the table was rendered even more baffled; he'd yet to see the silver-blonde looking anything less than gorgeous, yet it sounded like she was going to be preparing for their… wedding for months on end to look even more perfect. Should he appreciate that? Or was it more for her own benefit?

Jesus... he was getting married. What a strange thought that was.

If Harry was to be honest, he really wanted out of this _contract_. Fleur was great, and all, but this was not something Harry wanted. He was neither interested in the idea of marriage at this time, nor did he like the idea of his freedom being stripped from him.

But a male being forced in to marriage was far less serious than a girl. If it was a choice between Harry not being free to... to... actually, he didn't lose a lot. He wouldn't be allowed to attack any of his wife's family without provocation; an old law to solidify alliances and treaties, or to 'intentionally deprive her of an heir', but that was a lot less serious than forcing the girl to become a slave, and as a Veela that was what she would be, to a disgusting _little boy_.

Bored, Harry reminisced about Dinner the night before, and a grin spread across his face for the same reason that laughs had been echoing across the hall at frequent intervals today. Also why his bratty little brother had skipped breakfast, lunch and this evening's meal.

-()-()-()-

_A red faced boy, whether from anger or embarrassment was unclear, walked at a slow pace, with his head down, towards the far end of the Slythering table. Harry, and the girls next to him watched with varying expressions, all of which conveyed amusement. Harry's, in particular, brought even more attention to the scene; it was rare that he displayed emotion to such a degree in public, and the face splitting grin was very eye-catching. Not that the-boy-who-lived making a beeline towards his arch-nemisis had a lack of attention in the first place._

_As Thomas approached, Draco and his two overweight, pet trolls watched with suspicious expressions... Okay, Crabbe and Goyle just looked dumb, but Harry was pretty sure they were suspicious too_._ It was a shame that the clamour was far too loud for Harry to hear the two's confrontation._

_Nonetheless, Harry found it extremely amusing without audio. Thomas, reluctant, mumbled at the start and Malfoy sneered at him and said something obviously upsetting, as Thomas barked something back. The two morons were on their feet surprisingly quickly, and gave 'threatening' looks to the smaller 4__th__ year. Malfoy hissed something at them and, after glancing at the head table, the two dropped back in to their seats._

_Thomas scowled, and opened his mouth to continue before something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned, and managed to spot Harry raising his eyebrow; silently asking why it was taking so long for a simple apology._

_In response, Thomas gritted his teeth and his face, if possible, reddened further. He seemingly snarled something at the blonde boy and Harry chuckled to himself as Malfoy's surprise was visible. Who'd have thought the idiot would do it first try? The older Potter had been sure that stalling would be guaranteed and Thomas would almost certainly chicken out._

_The laughter was plenty loud enough for Harry to hear. Every Slytherin within earshot had skipped a beat, with a look of shock on their face at the arrogant champion actually apologising for _anything_ to _anyone_, let alone to Draco Malfoy; in his terms 'the slimiest snake'. Some of them waited the few extra seconds to tell their neighbours, who spread it down the table and, eventually, to the rest of the hall._

_Eventually, fact was distorted, and Harry was in no rush to correct the rumours. Apparently, Thomas Potter all but dropped to one knee as he serenaded Draco Malfoy in an attempt to woo the blonde. It almost inspired sympathy in the girls and Harry to know the sorrowful story of how Draco spurned the boy; Thomas nearly _cried_ for christ sake. Poor, poor asshole._

-()-()-

Don't get the wrong impression, though. Harry and the Malfoy Scion were certainly not friends. While they had a mutual dislike of the boy-who-lived, the elder Slytherin found the 4th year extremely annoying, and made it clear more than once that, unless his father enrolled in Hogwarts once again, there was no point in believing the power Lucius held had any sway over the running of Slytherin. Especially since Draco would be crucified, figuratively, if he ran to his daddy and tattled on a fellow snake.

Harry's strong dislike was shown rather publically when he was wandering the castle during one of his frees; Daphne, Tracy, Caroline, Jasmine and Fleur all having gone off... somewhere. He could find them on the map, but had a feeling doing that would result in pain being inflicted on him via some of the sensitive parts of his anatomy. For no particular reason, Harry was walking a corridor in the third floor; quite close to the one that used to be restricted because there was a massive cerberus in it, when he heard a snotty voice exclaim something that inspired a reaction in the black haired teen.

"What did I tell you? She's loony!" Draco Malfoy yelled, probably to his fellow fourth years. Based on the snickering that followed, his entire entourage was with the blonde boy as they found a target to bully; one that Harry quite soon deduced the identity of. There was only one girl that was regularly dubbed _loony_. Before Harry had quite figured out where the echoes came from, he was surprised by a voice speaking up.

"Back off, Malfoy!" A voice Harry knew well ordered the Malfoy heir. "Leave her alone!"

"Hah! And what if I don't?" Harry rounded the corner, and found a sight that had the beasts inside him snarling. Malfoy's thugs had grips on the 'savior', and had her lifted off the ground as she kicked at the pair. "Are you going to stop me?!

Ordinarily, Harry would have interjected at this point with something along the lines of 'No… But I am', simply because he had a slight fondness of theatrics, and because it would have been fun to see the 4th years squirm before breaking off and leaving Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle behind. Currently, however, the 6th year's witty sentence came out… wrong. In fact, it was a deep, rumbling growl that rang through the corridor as, without conscious thought, the black haired lad moved.

It was a testament to Harry's self-control, which had briefly failed him that day, that Lucius Malfoy did not have to organise funeral arrangements for his son. Or maybe it just showed where the teen's priorities lay. Harry preferred to think the latter for the simple fact that it made him feel better about himself; that he would prefer saving a quirky, but kind, 3rd year and, more importantly, Astoria; the girl he saw much like a little sister, and that he would do most anything to protect.

Nevertheless, there were three 4th year Slytherins in the hospital wing half an hour later, and Madame Pomphrey was a little frustrated that they would not tell her what had caused such injuries; since this would greatly help her in the healing process. Well, two of them used what little brain power they could muster to decide telling the nurse would be a bad idea, and their ringleader was physically incapable, since his lower jaw was shattered spectacularly.

-()-()-()-

The next few days were rather uneventful for Harry; he went to classes, laughed at his brother and did something, though he had _no_ idea what, to get forgiveness from Daphne, Tracy, Caroline and Jasmine. He wasn't going to question why they'd forgiven him; it was far more pleasant for them to be on good terms, especially since he knew even less about why they were upset with him in the first place. He had thought there was a Hogsmeade weekend but, evidently, was mistaken. He needed to figure out if that meant he had missed it by a week, or what.

Now, however, the 6th year was getting excited. The opposite reaction to that of the other three champions, each of whom were obviously nervous; bordering on hysterical at times. That was suspicious to Harry, but it was certainly possible that they were not aware of _what_ they were afraid of, just the idea of the first challenge and whatever it was that was meant to test their metal. Harry was probably being paranoid because he knew that, in all the recorded tourneys, cheating had run rampant. Surely Dumbledore would have taken steps in this one to avoid a repeat.

He had a few questions, of course; the most mundane of these being 'Why would they hold the first task on a Monday?' Surely a weekend would be preferable... For some last minute preparation if the champions needed it? Yes. Harry would go with that.

The Champions would have to be there for 09:00am. This meant that Harry had to head to bed earlier than normal, or he may not provide any entertainment to the crowds; a sleepy Harry would be a grumpy Harry. A grumpy Harry would not be inclined to prolong whatever this first challenge would be.

The _only_ worry he had was in context to Fleur. Next Saturday was a Hogsmeade trip, and he was sure that she would be upset with him for thinking she would do poorly; not that he did, but Harry had been spending more time with her recently and the idea of _sitting _there, twiddling his thumbs while she was in danger didn't sit right with him. He would have to, however. Those were the _rules_.

To be honest, he wouldn't care that they were the rules, since they were so moronic, had the punishment been less severe and had Fleur not chosen to enter this tournament of her own free will.

Dropping in to his bed, Harry's last thought was what was to be expected. For him, at least. At the same time tomorrow, he would be well aware of the fact that the others had known far more than him going in to this first task.

'I wonder what I'll be facing tomorrow.'

The answer would truly have surprised Harry Potter; champion of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

-(_)(_)(_)-(_)(_)(_)-

**There ya go. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. **

**Any of you catch that I'm not a Skeeter fan? Or was I too subtle?**

**No ferrets were harmed in the making of this chapter.**


	13. The First Task

**Here's another chapter of Feral. Sorry about the updates being less frequent, I have a lot of work at the moment.**

**Oh, and to ease your minds, Thomas isn't done apologising just yet!**

**Please Follow/Favourite/Review**

**Above all, I hope you enjoy!**

**I own nothing.**

Inside the Champions tent, the mood was tense, to say the least. It was an odd fact that Harry, who knew less than any of the others as to what he was getting himself in to, was in the best mood.

He still wasn't sure where he currently stood in regards to Tracy, Daphne, Jasmine and Caroline, but it seemed they, for today, at least, had put a pin in whatever had their emotions changing in such erratic and, quite frankly, weird, ways . Hopefully, the forgiveness they had given him would be permanent, but Harry wasn't willing to assume this was the case; especially since more and more of their ire was directed at each other and, most often, Fleur. The Veela, thankfully, was used to receiving glares and muttered insults and so was plenty willing and able to ignore the girls and their anger.

It was also obvious that their ignoring her, at best, was affecting Fleur much less than it would have done for Harry; he was very relieved this morning when they had each, individually, come to wish him luck. He likely didn't need luck, as they well knew, but it was good to get their support as this would be one less distraction.

With a calm expression; one that even Harry was not sure if was genuine, or if it was a mask, the genuine Hogwarts Champion watched Fleur tapping her foot nervously as she continually glanced at the entrance of the tent. Likewise, Krum and Thomas seemed to make no effort whatsoever to hide their nervousness; one was simply glaring at nothing in particular as his jaw clenched and unclenched and the other was pacing around the tent while trying to rid himself of the obvious nausea he felt. Why would they be so nervous already? Anticipation he could certainly understand; they should be seriously curious about what was about to happen, and he could even understand being nervous as to _what_ that would be. But _this_? This almost seemed like they _knew_ what was coming. All three of them…

Harry's train of thought was interrupted abruptly as the tent's flap was flung aside and Ludo Bagman all but bounded inside; a happy grin on his face and a small burlap bag clutched in his hand. Following a few moments later, at a much more sedate pace, was Barty Crouch.

"Gather 'round, gather 'round!" Bagman exclaimed, as he stood in the centre of the tent's room with the bag that looked more like a sack held in two hands. "No; as I'm sure you know, today is the beginning stage of the Triwizard tournament. Based on how you do today; you will be awarded points and, if you retrieve the egg, you will be given a clue that is vital to your ability in one of the following stages." The man said, with his grin still present.

"But you shouldn't be worrying about that just yet." He added as the champion gained curious expressions. "No. You should be worrying about how you will retrieve the golden egg when it is being held by a FULLY GROWN DRAGON!"

It was quite obvious that Bagman was expecting a multitude of reactions; all of which were, in his mind, going to be startled and, most likely, fearful. That's the only reason he would be so over the top in his revelation, Harry was sure.

Unfortunately for the ex-beater, three of the four were well aware of the challenge, and the fourth was not vocal in his shock; though the very much surprised expression on his face made up for Bagman's disappointment a little, and inspired a look of fear in Fleur. She, understandably, had expected him to be told of this task; it was well established that a school's champion _would_ find out what a task was before the date. Especially for the first task and, even more so, the champion of the _host_ school.

It would be a few days from now before Hagrid, the friendly school gamekeeper, would connect the dots. He, due to his rather naïve nature, had been certain that Thomas would share the knowledge with his brother. The only reason he would realise this was because Madame Maxine would broach the subject after being told by Fleur Delacour of the 'superior' smirk that was now present on the illegal champion's face. Thomas would then find out that having a half-giant yell at you was not a fun experience but was, in fact, _terrifying._

Harry was, rightly, shocked. They were going to have the students fight a bloody _dragon_? Were they idiots? One of the champions could _easily_ die against one of the predators, and the Hogwarts' student doubted that there was any defence that would _guarantee_ that none of the audience would be grievously injured or, potentially, killed. Sure, there would be many a powerful wizard to provide protection were the dragon to break free from whatever constraints were holding it, but the apex lizards were infamous for their magical resistance.

Then, his mind began racing like a hamster in its wheel; calling forth each and every piece of knowledge he had on Dragons; especially in regards to any weaknesses he could exploit.

"Well... okay, then." Bagman muttered, as he didn't get the comedic reactions he had been anticipating. "To decide who will be going first, and which of our unhappy guests you will be facing, we have... models of the creatures in this bag. Each of you will select a dragon, and that dragon will have a number around its neck. Either one, two, three or four. The champion with the number one will go first, two will go second, etcetera etcetera. Simple enough, yes?" Upon receiving nods from the four, Ludo's grin returned. "Ladies first, then." He held the now open sack out to Fleur, who hesitantly raised her hand and, even more cautiously, reached inside; twitching a little as something brushed against her hand.

Outwardly, the platinum-blonde girl remained composed. Harry was sure that only he would have detected the sudden nerves, and even he was relying on senses other than sight as her breathing hitched and the scent of fear became obvious enough he could scarcely believe the other men could not smell it.

Drawing her hand from the burlap bag, Fleur showed her choice. Harry had no idea whether the small, green serpentine creature was a lucky or unlucky draw, and so looked to Bagman.

"Ah. The common Welsh Green. Congratulations Miss Delacour." The pot-bellied man didn't elaborate on that statement as he moved on to Victor Krum, but going second was not ideal for the girl. "You next, Mr Krum."

Krum reached in again, and had a similar reaction to the Beauxbatons student before him. Despite the boy's gruff exterior, the nervousness was palpable as he drew his very own mini-dragon. One with the number 3 around its neck.

"The Chinese Fireball... Oooh." Well, that was just cruel. Bagman moved on leaving, a visible worried expression on Krum's face as he pondered what that noise meant. Was Bagman trying to make sure the favourite, in the eyes of the media, was distracted going in to this challenge?

That wasn't a serious thought, when it occurred to Harry. He had no idea how close he was to the truth. It would later irritate the 6th year to no end that he didn't register the change in Bagman's behaviour when it came to the next champion.

"Th- Mr Potter," He almost called him by his first name. That should have been one of Harry's first clues. "Your turn."

Thomas' hands were shaking dramatically as he reached in to the bag, and Harry turned up his nose at the extremely unpleasant, and strong, sent that exuded from Thomas as he perspired.

As the silver-blue dragon was revealed, and the number 1 with it, Harry noted that both Thomas, confirming that the boy knew of the dragons, and their stats, and Ludo looked extremely relieved. Of course, any adult could be thankful, and not particularly suspiciously, about the youngest of the champions getting a particular dragon.

A thought that was made all the more plausible as the ex-Beater held the bag to Harry; the 6th year for some reason noticed that he stood an inch or two taller than the older man, though Ludo must have outweighed him by a good two stone. Not in a good way. As Harry reached into the bag, the judge appeared to gain a bit of nervousness himself, and was proven right to do so when Harry snatched his hand back with a curse.

"Crap! Bloody thing bit me!" He reached back in with determination and yanked the squirming dragon out with a scowl; keeping a firm grip on the little lizard to prevent further attack. It was the only breed of dragon that Harry had recognised so far, and that was just because it was known as one of the most dangerous magical creatures around. There were many that would outclass it, of course; including the basilisk, but many of them were believed to have been hunted to extinction for the safety of humans. Plus, and this was one thing that worried Harry, the Hungarian Horntail was insanely fast in the air. And neither of his avian forms could hope to stand up against it.

Harry wasn't exactly going in to this with the upper hand. In fact, his thoughts could be summed up in a single word. Or two single words, as the case was.

"Well... Shit."

-()-()-()-()-

Thomas Potter had gone first. Apparently the boy's method was exciting; not to mention dangerous. The number of "Oohs" that drifted in to the tent, along with a couple of screams and shouts confirmed that. Harry guessed that they had somehow charmed Bagman's microphone to not let the three champions hear and, therefore, know the first's technique, since he did not hear the enthusiastic man's commentary even once as he listened for a sign of victory or failure.

He received it quite obviously as the crowd roared; even more loudly than the Swedish Short Snout. His brother had not died, then. But he had taken 4 minutes and 45 seconds of his allotted 5 minutes. That suggested, to Harry, that the boy's score would be quite low.

He wouldn't know, however, until the challenge was over. Nor would he know what the scores of his other two competitors.

Fleur, pointedly focusing on the exit to the tent and thus ignoring Harry, or any other potential distraction, walked with a forced calm demeanour as the horn; which Harry believed sounded like it belonged on a cargo ship, sounded once more.

Against the Welsh Green, Fleur seemed to fair better than Thomas before her; or at least have fewer close calls, and finished within 4 minutes. Harry did, however, almost spring to his feet as crowd let out a collective gasp; indicating that something had gone very wrong. He was stopped as the applause began, though, and let out a breath he had not been aware he was holding.

As Krum left, with only a respectful nod being traded between him and his Hogwarts opponent, a plan finally began to form in the black haired teen's mind, and, in an instant, he was on his feet. Turning around, he raised his hands, wand appearing in the right, with a grin that would have, had they been there to see it, made his fellows nervous.

-()-()-()-()-

It was an odd feeling, that which was radiating from the crowd.

Each and every member of the audience had been excited for this first task ever since the date was announced less than a month prior, but this was... different.

Thomas had had his share of 'fans', though the number was far lower than Krum's would be, that had been cheering him on with great vigour as he summoned the Firebolt, and he had been rewarded with an ovation as he played to his strengths and overcame the obvious handicap of being only 14.

Fleur Delacour had had less in the way of support; mainly because nobody was quite sure what she was doing, but, all the same, the crowd was happy to see her succeed. Some males in the crowd had the impression that maybe, if they clapped hard enough, the beauty would give them her attention when it came time for the Yule Ball, and this increased her standing almost as much as her celebrity opponents.

Krum had his fangirls, and an embarrassing number of boys, squealing as he retrieved his egg, and even those that were _not_ behaving like pre-pubescent; though some, of course, had the excuse of _being_ pre-pubescent girls, had given him an enthusiastic round of applause for his quick, decisive action. The fact that he destroyed the eggs was overlooked by his moving in to 1st place soon after.

But now... Now was the turn of Harry Potter.

He was not a celebrity. In fact, all but one of the foreign students had never heard of him before they arrived. He was, by the British media, not perceived as any threat to the _mighty_ Victor Krum and the _fabled_ Thomas Potter. Hell, they had barely mentioned him in the coverage of the tournament so far.

But those present knew better.

Harry Potter had _decimated_ a virtual army of Dark Wizards. That was what the hearsay claimed.

He had survived, for his most vulnerable years, in the harsh, unforgiving wild. The rumours assured.

He was an heir to Merlin knows how many lines; even to Merlin himself. The most recent speculations implored.

He had been abandoned; cast aside like he was worthless. Yet he had only grown stronger through something none wanted to imagine. Many of the more able gossips discovered.

The most gifted student since Dumbledore himself. Was the conclusion reached by those naïve enough to believe such _ridiculous _rumours_._

In reality, nobody knew much about the 6th year. Harry was private, for sure, and did not feel the need to address the opinions of others. In fact, though few of them were aware of it, most of the people gathered inspired ire from the older Potter. He could not tolerate people; their fickle nature proving to him that they would turn against him soon enough.

If it was not for the fact he had so greatly embraced his animal side, it would be for the connections to this house of his.

Harry would be known by the title of Lord Lucifer, and that would scare them. Scared sheep would react the same way each and every time. They see a threat and react as a group. Someone would label him as a 'Dark Lord', and the rest would agree. The Shepard would say jump, and the sheep would ask 'how high'. They could not convict a Lord, of course, without ample evidence, but that would not stop him from being persecuted and badmouthed. If he cared what was thought of him by more than a select few; Harry would be hurt. The solution to that was simple; to not care.

And, as much as he hated himself for it, Harry saw them as inferior. Not because of blood, race, or _species_. Just because that was the conclusion he reached when he examine the facts.

He was faster than all. He was stronger, by far, than most. More powerful. The best he could be.

And they were not.

Any species with such an easy weakness as a stick they were so very reliant on was, in the eyes of an Apex, little more than prey. Were Harry to give in to his instinctual half, he would simply take what he wanted and shatter those obstacles in his path. If he did that, the wizarding world would not know what hit it. They were magical; that was their sole advantage over the muggles so many of them hated, but they did not embrace magic. They used it much like a muggle would use electricity; as nothing more than a tool, and Harry did not understand.

Magic was great. With it, they could literally move mountains, but so few knew _anything_ about it. Even the girls, who Harry cared for more than his own life and limb, did not understand his view on magic. It may have been something to do with Harry's heritage, or his partly broken mind, but Harry believed it was his childhood. Magic had, for lack of a better term, helped him. If it were an actual being, Harry would be able to describe how he was different. But it was not, and so he _could not_.

All he knew was that it had changed him. Changed him from a gifted 6 year old who was lost, alone, and terrified, into what he now was. He was always Harry James Potter; heir to an ancient and noble house, but until the day he had been on death's door; suffering from gods knows what in a forest, shivering and shaking as he prayed for _something_, for _anything_ to save him, that had been all he was or ever would be.

Now... well, now he didn't know. He was not human; Harry found no shame in that. As was rather clear, he had both gained and lost from embracing his Animagus forms, and was glad of that fact. He was... _truer_ because of it. Or... something. He did not know how to describe this any more than why the runes, that were so complex to others, sang their secrets to him readily. He had been _changed_ all those years ago. Had been given a second chance before Death could seize him.

Often, when Harry was in one of his more complex moods, he could not help but wonder why. Why that _presence_ stood opposite Death would choose to help the dying, pitiful child that night. Especially when it was his own idiocy that killed him. Then, he would shrug. What hopes did Harry have to understand the workings of the mind of such a being?

As Harry exited the tent, and these thoughts started creeping up on him again with the crowd's roar, he shook his head clear, and refocused. It wouldn't do to be distracted going against a full grown dragon.

-()-()-()-

In the crowd, aware of the excitement they almost unanimously felt, but not _quite_ feeling it, a select group of individuals had their own thoughts.

Perhaps unsurprisingly; the Potters, who were allowed in the stands as a teacher and an Auror, felt pride as they watched their second son enter the arena. Unlike their youngest, Harry gave no indication of nervousness as he approached the dragon down a rocky path. In fact, if they did not know better, the pair would almost say that he looked _excited_; but that was not possible. _Nobody_ would be happy about going in to such a dangerous situation. Even so, Harry gave the impression that he was _very_ confident, and James, especially, was looking forward to seeing what the teen could do. They, along with the vast majority of the audience, had seen very little in the way of Harry demonstrating his abilities. Even the teachers only knew that he was advanced for his age.

This fact was also running through the minds of the teachers that knew Harry's skillset as well as any; other than those the boy trusted implicitly. Harry had always chosen to refrain from any advanced testing and, though he had never given an answer as to _why_; simply saying he did not feel like it, they were next to certain that it was his way of refusing to move ahead of his select few friends. While that made sense, Minerva Mcgonagall, in particular, felt that it was a waste of the elder Potter's potential. If Harry applied himself as much as she _knew_ he could, the boy could make serious waves in the Wizarding World. Far surpassing what she predicted of her own favourite student; Hermione Granger. Not that that was surprising; even Ronald Weasley would have a better life than the third member of his 'trio' simply because of the poor girl's blood status. Minerva could only hope _something_ would happen to convince Ms Granger that remaining in their world post-graduation was the best choice for her. Unfortunately, that happening was becoming less and less likely.

Much like his best friend, Sirius Black felt pride creep up on him as he watched his Godson approach the dragon's den. Despite his new-found wariness of the boy, and perhaps due, in part, to this, Sirius was confident that Harry would out-perform Krum.

One of very few people that felt something negative as he watched Harry Potter begin his challenge was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore; Head Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, etc, etc. He now knew the identity of the so-called-hero that _chose_ to kill, rather than subdue, the attackers of Beauxbatons; that it was Harry was becoming more and more certain by the day. Especially since the boy had no shame about it. It was why young Harry was so popular with the French students, he knew, and they were all too young to realise just how _dangerous_ Harry was; to be able to take lives with such ease. To not even consider the reformation of his enemies, and not even show _remorse_. Albus was becoming more and more convinced that he needed to intervene; the worry of Harry turning into the next Tom was ever present and greatly weighed on the old man's mind.

On the opposite side of the spectrum was another of the school heads. Madame Maxine, much like her students, was very fond of Harry Potter. He had saved the lives of countless Beauxbatons students, after all. And he seemed to lack the bigotry that was seemingly very common in British Wizards. Their relations with France were strained at best, and the fact that they had such a… such a _cretin_ as their Minister of Magic removed what little faith many of the French populace had in them, and the few that did not avoid Brits on principle were likely to have never met one. Or had never had the bad luck to meet the most vocal of the English people; the idiots and bigots held positions of power in the majority of countries; but nowhere were they so _vocal_ as in England. This was best shown by the very heavy involvement of Britain in the two most recent Wizarding Wars. Unfortunately, the Xenophobia was not restricted to the extremist purebloods.

All thoughts unrelated to the task at hand were suddenly interrupted as Bagman's volume jumped to a roar.

"BEGIN!"

-()-()-()-

"What the-" Was the first thing Bagman said in his commentary of the final participant. "What's he doing?"

Harry was stood in the entrance to the Dragon enclosure; in what should have been plain view of the Horntail. Yet... the Dragon was ignoring him. What was going on?

Fortunately, Harry knew exactly what was happening. He understood the way predators such as the lizard functioned, and knew what the wild swinging of its head signified. Any being faced with such a marvellous, terrifying sight as the beast would feel fear; so that was what the creature was smelling for. Harry knew it was odd for him to be unafraid of the mother dragon in front of him; trained handlers would go through dozens of years of training and be unable to shake the dread that came upon seeing something that could kill you, in any number of ways, in less time than it took to blink.

Yet... he wasn't.

Something in him, and he squashed that something down, wanted him to face it head on. To challenge the beast and prove that he was stronger.

The... hunter inside him, coming primarily from the sabre-tooth in this case, was begging him to change. To take this overgrown lizard on like the mammoths of old. He _wanted_ to move. To move, faster than the dragon would ever predict, as his skin burst; giving way to the ebony fur as his fangs extended. Harry would lunge at the Horntail, and latch on in an instant. His extended teeth would pierce his rival's throat, and the dragon would be unable to shake its killer. The tail? Useless. Fire? Harry would be beneath it. The fire would be a random torrent that weakened so very quickly as the lizard's lifeblood poured down Harry's chin. The closest it could come to escaping would be with the claws protruding from the... paws? He didn't know what they were called on a dragon. Those claws, however, were not ever meant to attack. It was the teeth, fire and tail that the Horntail relied on to fight. It would be helpless if none of those three were usable.

But he didn't.

Harry pushed those thoughts aside; not difficult after so long controlling himself, and focused on the task at hand just as his mistake became obvious.

Harry had judged the Horntail to be a beast. Nothing more, nothing less, and this was a grave error. If it was, Harry would be in the perfect position to take it by surprise, as it would not pay any attention to the area lacking any prey. But for a dragon? The dragon looked around and _saw_ the human that felt no fear; not relying solely on its incredible sense of smell, knowing that even its senses were fallible. It saw the human and judged one that was not afraid of it to be a greater threat than those that were cowering in their seats as her gaze rested on them. And so, the dragon attacked.

And Harry stood there, unprepared.

The crowd screamed as a burst of fire engulfed the champion and he, presumably, died in front of them. The lower years, especially those of Beauxbatons, cried as they watched the favourite in the competition die so easily. James and Lily Potter froze; utterly shocked at watching their eldest son die. Albus Dumbledore sat still with an expression of horror on his face. What had he done? This tournament had cost him the life of one of his students. How could he live with himself?

Fleur, being allowed to watch the final match as she had already finished hers, released a shocked gasp as Krum, sat on the seat next to her, shot to his feet. Not that the Durmstrang boy could do anything; he was just the type to want to act in the face of danger. Neither saw the grin spread across Thomas Potter's face as he watched his brother die.

Nor the fact that it slid off his face in the next moment.

"Fuck!" A voice exclaimed, from within the flames; not pained or scared but _annoyed_. "Stupid fucking lizard!"

The torrent of fire swirled, before it was extinguished in the dragon's throat, and Harry's form was displayed to the crowd. Much to the joy of the more perverted girls, and a few boys.

_He_ was unharmed. The only change was that his skin had been blackened, his eyebrows were gone and his hair singed. Well, that and he was naked.

Stupidly, Harry had not thought to apply the flame-proof wards to his clothes, and evidently this was the result of his oversight. His being on display for the entire world to see.

Harry had a feeling that Daphne, at the very least, would be _irritated_ by this mistake. Odd that he was set more on edge by the threat of a girl who, quite frankly, was not any threat to him than by the dragon that _certainly_ was.

That and the fact that he expected this… revelation would increase the number of 'subtle' requests to escort girls to the ball that he received even further. This made Harry angry.

Well, it irritated him further. Harry was rarely angry.

But irritation was enough.

"_Morsum cauda, fiend_." The 6th year hissed, swiping his wand in a diagonal motion. The crowd, recovering from their shock, waited for the spell, that none of them recognised, to take effect.

They waited.

And waited.

And the Dragon's tail began to twitch; after which the beast snorted, and released another jet of fire. It twisted its body, before letting out a roar as the limb spasmed again. The spell, which was useless in the vast majority of cases, gave the sensation of something the same dimensions and strength of the creature's jaw chomping down on its tail. If you cast it at a human, they would feel a tickling not unlike having a phantom limb but there would be no other effect.

On the Horntail, however, this spell was the perfect distraction for Harry.

He span on his heel and raised his wand again; this time pointed at one of the many boulders littering the arena around him.

"_Reducto!_" The jet of light that followed smashed the boulder in to smaller pieces; each about the size of a human head. With another wave of his wand, Harry began a transfiguration that was, like his other spell, virtually useless in any other situation. At least with transfiguration it was all about visualisation and intent; meaning that he had not relied on luck in plucking a spell from the back of his head.

As the Dragon made the connection between Harry waving his wand and the pain beginning, and so coming to the conclusion that she should kill the wizard, it turned with a snarl to locate her opponent. Its anger was subsequently pushed aside in favour of worry.

Why were her eggs over on the other side of the enclosure?

The Horntail let out a whine as she hurried over, concerned for the safety of her young, and left her previous nest unguarded.

Harry tapped his wand against his head, and grinned, invisibly, as he felt the sensation of an egg cracking over his head.

Moving swiftly, before the dragon could catch on to his deception; Harry reached the centre of the enclosure, and snatched up the glinting, golden egg. The others, he was glad to note, were untouched.

With a final flick of his wand, Harry conjured a pair of trousers, and tapped himself on the head once more; revealing himself to have finished in the quickest time, with a smile.

"And there we have it!" Huh, had Bagman been commenting for the entire time? Harry hadn't noticed. "A spectacular, and very exciting, performance I am sure you will all agree! And impressive too! To survive dragonfire! Now, let us see how he has been graded for his performance by the judges!"

Dumbledore went first; raising his wand in to the air and shooting a red ribbon out. The scarlet cloth twisted itself in to a figure… **9**.

Crouch came next, and his ribbon formed a… **9.**

Karkaroff… **5**. Honestly, Harry was shocked to get that high a score from the man.

Maxine… **10**.

Bagman… had a frown for the first time since Harry had seen him as he gave a **8.**

"There you have it! With a score of 41, Harry Potter is now in the lead! I'm sure you all can't wait to see how he does at the next task, yes?!" The crowd agreed quite vocally. "And I bet you're frustrated that you have to wait!" Again. "Well then, you're in luck! It's time for task number two right NOW!"

Those in the crowd cheered, as each champion gained a look of shock. This… was going to suck.

**See you next time.**


	14. The Second

**Here's another chapter of Feral. The previous one had a few complaints about the task being too short. For the record, I think I did the right thing on that one, since I covered it in a couple of hundred words and I think that was adequate, but this one has a longer detailing of the task so I hope you like that.**

**I hope you all enjoy it. And please let me know of any interest.**

**I own nothing.**

**()-()-()-()-()**

Jasmine and Caroline, as Ravens, were well aware of the fact that, in the vast majority of situations, they were more willing to express their emotions than their Slytherin friends. Well, that was the case for Harry and Daphne. Tracy was generally enthusiastic outside of school but felt the need to blend in to her house. This... transparency was obvious at the moment as the two visibly showed their concern for Harry, and to an extent Fleur, after Bagman made such an unfortunate announcement.

The two girls sat next to each other, neither realising they were crushing the others' hand as they held on for dear life, and tears filled their eyes. Next to them, Tracy had reduced her worry to a slight tremble in her lower lip, though her own hands were clamped on her upper arms, and Daphne sat stoic. Later, when questioned, the 'ice queen' would calmly explain to them that she had always had faith in Harry, and berate them in that they, too, should have known he would thrive.

She would refuse to explain the origins of the nail-shaped punctures in her palms.

Despite the differences in their reactions, each girl had 100% of their focus on the black haired, soot covered, champion they were supporting; along with a very good portion of the audience.

In the anticipatory silence that overtook the crowd after their excited exclamations, a quiet whimper drew the angry, cold violet eyes of the Greengrass heiress to the girl she had just recently punched. It was unfortunate, in a way, but the unnamed girl had let out a wolf-whistle upon seeing Harry's form post-fire, and that had directed Daphne's ire towards her. With a sneer, the Slytherin girl turned her focus to the rest of the audience as Bagman let his previous statement hang in an attempt at showmanship.

Most people were excited, and with good reason. The tasks were a wonderful source of entertainment and thus people were happy that another one was upcoming. But there were a select few that clearly felt differently about the recent revelation.

The one that drew Daphne's attention, and this was the first time she could ever say such a thing, was Thomas Potter. She was thrilled that he looked so _terrified_; after the sickening grin she had spotted on his face when Harry 'died', the Greengrass heiress genuinely hoped the little bastard would die in this. It would save the trouble of doing it herself.

-()-()-()-

Albus Dumbledore was not happy with the decision to have another challenge; one that posed a very real, if less significant than the previous challenge's, threat to the champions, immediately after the first. He could not condone putting them in more danger, and had argued this point vehemently. Even he, however, could be overruled; and the other judges had agreed that this would be an effective measure to prevent anybody from cheating.

Well, stop them from cheating more than was expected; it was well known that most of the teachers wanted glory for their school in the eyes of the international community, after all. None of the judges had known what to expect in this second task, and so the officials knew that no champion would 'find out' about the immediate challenge. Each, also, had confidence that one of the _inferior_ students would never be able to fair better than the those taught by _their _school.

-()-()-()-

James Potter watched with mixed emotions. Extremely mixed.

Once his son... one of his sons, had told him what the first task was, after Hagrid revealed the nature to him, James had done everything in his power to help Thomas prepare to face the dragon. The brown haired lad had taken a while to get the summoning charm down, but there had still been enough time for the two to work on his skills on a broom under the pretence of some father-son bonding time. By the time this challenge rolled around, James and Lily, who he had repeatedly reassured, were confident that Thomas would be fine and dandy. While the same could not be said for his eldest, James knew that to call Harry a capable wizard would be an understatement and so the worry was only slight on his part, more stress coming from Lily's worrying than his own.

He knew his wife was not anywhere near as confident in Harry's safety.

Whether that was simply because of guilt from their alienating him, or the worry that came instinctively along with being a mother, James did not know, but the fear she now felt for both their children's safety was palpable and he knew that she was _fragile_ before the first task. How she would fare through this surprise, James had no idea.

-()-()-()-

And Harry?

Harry was shocked... Worried, even.

Briefly.

Then he was _happy_. Hopefully they would include something more physically taxing for this second task. His blood was racing from the dragon and the danger he had been in, but nothing had really _happened_. He had cast a few rather simple spells, and the Dragon had been tricked. Sure, he could have _fought_ it, but how could that possibly end well for him? Either he would struggle and be injured; even risking death, or, at the very least, he would unnecessarily draw attention to himself from a crowd outside of Hogwarts.

Plus, since he was in this contest Harry might as well give it his all and, based on the fact that the other 3 had had Merlin knows how long to prepare for the first task, he was best suited for a second, on his part, surprise. That boded well for his chances in the task, and inspired a certain smugness in the black haired teen. As long as it wasn't something that was particularly lucky for one of the others, that is. Harry would not be surprised if it turned out Karkaroff had somehow rigged the next challenge to have them on brooms, searching for something roughly the size of a snitch that, surprise surprise, could fly.

One of the worst things about this revelation, to Harry, was that Bagman had misled them. He made it sound like the challenge would start _immediately_. It'd been half an hour, now, since Harry fetched the golden egg, yet here he and the other three were; sat back in the Champions' tent. Sure, it made sense that they'd have to prepare, but this was just letting his adrenaline fade.

That was just boring.

Imagine, if you will, putting a wild animal; one that was just barely tamed, into a fight, and then _taking_ that animal back out of the blasted fight and refusing him any release for his bloodlust. In Harry's opinion, this was not a good idea but if they understood that aspect of him, Harry wouldn't be here. But this problem was not currently important.

The main problem, though likely only from Harry's point of view, was Fleur and the guilt that rolling off her in waves; strong enough that the emotion's scent dominated his senses. He'd noticed this 15, or so, minutes earlier. It was horrid that she felt so bad, and Harry was racking his brain to figure out _what_ he could do to relieve her of this. What he considered a reassuring smile had not cut it. If anything it had made it worse. Harry guessed that this must be because Fleur thought he was not aware she knew what the task was going to be and neglected to tell him.

At the same time, the girl in question was worrying about how she should apologise to Harry. Well, not just that. Fleur also needed to apologise to Caroline for not sharing with her friend the dangers that would be faced by herself and Harry. Even if the penalties for cheating were rarely exercised, Fleur did not want to risk it; hopefully Caroline would understand that. On top of that, Fleur, sensibly in her own mind, assumed Harry would know. It was obvious that Krum and Thomas knew the task going in to it, after all, so why wouldn't Harry?

Neither of the pair got to act; on their confusion and guilt respectively, as a boisterous man bounced into the wizarding tent with a jovial expression on his face. Bagman's excitement did not bode well for three of the Champions, and was only barely a good sign for Harry. None of the four were dumb enough to mistake the sign; the man was excited for one reason and one reason only. The next task was about to begin.

-()-()-()-

"This is one of the most simple, yet _exciting_ tasks your three schools have ever had the privilege of participating in in the Tri-Wizard tourney!" Bagman announced to the crowd; the stands they sat in now set out in a one and a half kilometre straight stretch. "The objective for the challengers is quite simple, yet _very_ effective! The stretch of land before you is modelled after a muggle creation called an obstacle course! They use their non-magical version to train people for their standing army; let us see how our Champions fair on this improved course! They will run the course only once. The first to finish will be rewarded an extra 20 points; the second will receive 10 points, while the third finisher will be rewarded 5 points. The one who comes in last will receive no bonus points, and so will be left at a rather serious disadvantage!"

What were those glances? Harry couldn't help but wonder. It may have been his imagination, but the other three competitors seemed to be shooting not-so-subtle looks at him. He wasn't quite sure what these meant, but guessed they were not positive.

"The regulations are quite simple! The course must be completed on foot; so no broom-summoning, the competitors are not permitted to directly, and intentionally, do lasting damage to each other or to render another unconscious on purpose and, lastly, you must stay in the course at all times!" The man's grin could be heard in his next words. "That is all! Our 4 champions will begin on the word go!

"On your marks... Get set... _Go_!" The mystery of why Bagman had used the muggle saying to begin the race was forcefully knocked out of Harry's head an instant later.

"_Incarcerous_!" Three voices rang out, as the tip of each owners' wand was pointed at the black haired animagus. Thomas, terrible at aiming even here, managed to wrap the ropes around Harry's face, while Fleur got his legs and Krum his arms; muffling the curse he let out as he fell to the floor. His wand fell next to him as its owner collapsed.

Fleur, Victor and Thomas took off at a sprint; each with a different view on what they just did.

Victor, of course, was not bothered in the least by removing his fiercest competitor from this task. He had seen Harry running before; the fact that he did by choice showing that, for a wizard, the other would be formidable. Victor also knew that, in a fair race, he would not be anywhere near as fast as Harry's inhuman speed.

Thomas, meanwhile, was a little embarrassed about the faux pas, but otherwise only wished he could have used a more... satisfying spell against his older brother. That would have shown the arrogant bastard. Even so, the younger Potter was happy to have shown up Harry in front of the whole school.

Fleur... was more complicated. She, like Krum, had seen Harry on his regular runs; going at a speed the majority of wizards could only replicate if the devil was on their heels, and knew him to be the most likely winner of this race. She felt guilty about her effective backstab, but she would not have entered this contest if she didn't want to win. The French girl would apologise later, but she did not regret furthering her own cause in the heat of the moment.

Every 300 metres, there was a magical, or occasionally more mundane, obstacle; though the three did not know this for sure yet, since the first; a flock of... birds, was blocking their view of the rest of the course.

The cloud of avians; mismatched between hummingbirds, ravens, seagulls and starlings, stopped each competitor roughly 20 metres away, as they waited for one of the others to risk getting attacked by Merlin knows how many birds. Krum, arriving neck-to-neck with Fleur realised, upon seeing Thomas stop beside them, that it would not do to hesitate, and raised his wand again; charging forwards.

"_Reducto_!" Victor barked, as he grew near to the cloud of birds. This blew a hole in the defences briefly, and he sprinted through. When he came out the other side, the crowd saw that the spell had been effective, to an extent. He had few enough cuts that, it was clear he had avoided most of the birds, and that they had swarmed him only after recovering from the sudden shock.

Fleur followed next, conjuring a cloak that she wrapped around her body after casting several _Impervius_ charms on the material. She, too, ran through. The birds, however, were smarter than typical. Upon exiting, it was clear that they had snatched the cloak from the Beauxbatons student, leaving her defenceless. She was slightly worse for wear than Krum.

"_Incendio_!" Thomas followed the other two, and barrelled ahead. He was attacked by flaming birds.

As Fleur exited the bird-obstacle, she found herself face to face with a trio of Rottweilers; each growling menacingly at her. Krum was running ahead, having just transfigured them. The girl raised her wand, and began casting.

"_Stupefy_!" The red bolt struck the first dog, and knocked it out immediately, as the other two lunged at her. "_Impedimenta_!" For the next beast, the Delacour girl hit it with the impeding jinx, and the dog, rather comically, fell flat on its face, knocking itself groggy. As she did this, the third and final dog got in jumping distance, and leapt at its enemy. Panicked, Fleur let out a quick cry of "_Depulso_!" and the creature flew back, landing in the dirt with a _thump_ and a whimper. The blonde girl took off at a run again, in pursuit of her Durmstrang opponent.

The groggy dog Fleur had left behind struggled back to its feet just as the chubby champion managed to struggle through the cloud of birds; those on fire having faded away. Thomas Potter was not having a good day.

The second obstacle was of the muggle variety. There was a pair of wooden blocks, each four feet high and as long as the course was wide, with a metre and a half gap filled with mud between the two. Evidently, the champions were meant to jump it.

As Krum reached it, he stopped to get a feel for the gap, and conjured a plank of wood. It was 6 feet long and, soon enough, he had levitated it to fit over the gap well enough to cross. Climbing on to the nearer block, Krum began; not taking Fleur's position in to account.

As the ragged beauty neared, she saw what Krum was attempting and, with a sinister smirk, saw the perfect opportunity to get him back for his Rottweiler stunt.

"_Bombarda_!" The spell made contact with the centre of the plank, and the Quiddich player fell in to the pool of muck. Muck that, as it so happened, was ultra-fast drying. It would hinder him as the mud dried; caking his body. Krum clambered out of the other side of the pit after falling in, while Fleur summoned her own makeshift bridge.

The two reached the third obstacle by the time Thomas reached the mud-pit, tiredly climbed over the wooden block; mistaking that for the entirety of the obstacle, and fell face first in to the sludge.

It was as Fleur and Krum reached the third of five that Harry managed to twist his body enough to have one of his hands facing _away_ from himself. It would be a bad move to cut himself open trying to escape these bloody bindings, after all. He sent a low powered cutting curse through the ropes, in order to weaken them enough that, with his own strength, he could free up one of his arms, and reached blindly for his fallen wand.

Fleur and Krum did not make the connection between the distance of separating the previous obstacles being 300 metres, and the blank space in front of each other as they were running; Krum slowly pulling ahead.

This just meant that the pit got Victor before Fleur. The illusion covering the 6 foot wide, 15 foot drop blinked away as Krum was on top of it, and the Durmstrang student swore in his native tongue as he fell. It was unfortunate that Fleur did not have time to stop herself, having been pushing herself to her highest speeds in an attempt to catch the first place Champion. The French girl just let out a surprised yell, as she followed Krum in to the trap.

"_Diffindo_!" Harry freed himself, and, understandably aggravated, began the course at a sprint.

As the black haired Hogwarts' student neared the first obstacle, seeing the swarm of birds and weighing the risks, the crowd was surprised to see that he did not stop; instead charging straight ahead. With two waves of his wand, Harry produced a smokescreen that engulfed the avians and, then, a gunshot rang through the course as he sent the birds in to a confused frenzy; each attempting to flee the odd sensations only to be stopped by the charms holding them in formation. This, luckily, created a small gap through which a human male could, just about, fit; as was shown by Harry sliding through and suffering only the most minor of injuries.

Accelerating back to his sprinting pace, Harry reached the mud pit and the walls surrounding it and, unlike his opponents, the animagus in human form leapt, placing his foot on the first wooden block, and vaulted the second; only taking the time to note that his little brother was clawing his way out of the muck as he landed in a roll. He left a patch of ice on the ground to hinder Thomas, and amuse him, further. Harry's fortune took a turn for the better, as he caught a glimpse of Krum climbing from the hole he had been caught in; giving the opponent they had ganged up on the warning that Krum and Fleur had not been afforded.

Harry guessed that he was running about twice the speed that Krum was by the time he had recovered from falling in to the pit; followed closely by Fleur as both clambered out of the rocky hole. It was inevitable the Harry would catch the pair, and he was not in a very forgiving mood.

Once again avoiding the obstacle with a leap rivalling Olympic athletes; assisted by a jinx to make the floor immediately before the pit as bouncy as a trampoline, the Hogwarts champion rolled, before smoothly righting himself, and began his pursuit of Krum and Fleur. Nearing the two, he raised his wand, and turned it on Krum first.

"_Obscuro_!" The Quiddich player panicked as his eyes were covered by a blindfold, and tripped over his own feet. Harry followed up with a flick of his wand while thinking _Levicorpus_; a spell he'd observed from his godfather as a child. The Bulgarian was tugged in to mid-air by his ankle, and left; dangling and blind.

Fleur, noticing this commotion, twisted to attempt to get the better of Harry, and was hit by an _Expelliarmus_, followed up by a Leg-locking curse. Harry, kindly, left her trying to crawl to where her wand had fallen.

The next test was another quite clearly based on a muggle obstacle course. It was an oiled up climbing wall with a rope hanging down the centre. Harry didn't feel like climbing it.

"_Reducto_!" The wall was blasted apart, and Harry wouldn't have been slowed down at all, if he had not taken the time to cast a _Reparo_; not wanting to make the challenge any easier for his opponents.

The last obstacle was an amusing idea; the judges had set up an illusion to make the champions believe they had reached the finish line, but hadn't been executed properly. They had put up a particularly complex spell lest the task drag on as the first place competitor just stood there for an hour or more. The spell only fooled the sense of sight and, beneath this layer of magic, there was nought but a plain dirt track just as there had been throughout the race. Harry's superior senses quickly told him that this was the case, and the black haired champion charged straight ahead. It would have been more entertaining, for him at least, if they'd had Flitwick put up the charms; or had an illusion of another dragon. That wouldn't have fooled him, but it would have been funny to see his brother's reaction.

Harry covered the remaining 300 metres, for Bagman had apparently lied to make this last obstacle convincing, in a predictably quick time. He turned to observe what he could of the other three's progress. A few minutes later, Fleur had obviously managed to retrieve her wand and reach the climbing wall. She, unlike Harry, decided to follow the course of actions the officials had wanted, and Harry saw her pull herself over; dropping to the floor below nimbly before standing with a flourish of her wand. From the wand movements, Harry could guess what she had done, and was annoyed that he had not thought of it himself.

When Krum reached the fourth obstacle, he'd be hard pressed to climb up the _very_ slippery surface. Far more than the muggle oil had achieved.

Harry was also slightly ashamed to admit how... interesting the sight of Fleur's light blue and, more importantly, _drenched_ top was.

Seeing Harry standing 600 metres away from her, instead of at the 'finishing line' negated the illusion for Fleur; it seemed rather useless by this point, and was proven further when Krum, finally, pulled himself up the slimed wall by transfiguring some climbing spikes An angry expression deepened the Quiddich player's ever-present frown even further because he had spent five minutes, which was a long time in this particular contest, trying to undo the jinx Harry put on him, only to repeatedly fail to scale the wall he had then been faced with.

The Bulgarian champion was only slightly ahead of his chubby competitor, shamefully, and his mood was dark because of this. It wasn't helped by the fact that the mud from the second obstacle had crusted by this point, and his movements were more difficult than they had any right to be, and that he had only gained _5_ points in this task; putting the Hogwarts champion annoyingly far ahead of him.

Harry laughed loudly when it became evident Thomas had fallen at one of the hurdles. He only wished that he was able to watch the boy's failure himself; instead, he'd have to rely on first-hand accounts to convey the younger Potter's humiliation.

Eh. Maybe Harry'd make him apologise to some more Slytherins, just so the day would feel complete.


	15. A Shrieking Egg

**Here is a chapter of Feral. I hope you all enjoy it, and let me know of any interest through Review, Follows and Favourites.**

**I have to say, I didn't predict how much hate Fleur would get for the last chapter. It happened during the task, after all, and Harry ****_obviously_****was going to thrash everyone involved if they didn't get an advantage over him. And for the first task, why ****_wouldn't_****she think Harry would be informed about ****_dragons_****?**

**Anyway, I hope this chapter helps explain it, and that you enjoy this chapter.**

Uneventful weeks passed quite happily for Harry. His brother was miserable, and the girls were happy; fulfilling two large parts of his own criteria for merriment. Classes were dull as always, but nothing particularly negative occurred; even in the class run by a half-mad ex-Auror. More importantly, though, there was always a notable improvement in the castle's... feel when it got to December. Everything turned festive mid-way through the month, and even the most apathetic students were inevitable infected with the Christmas spirit; even if there were certain, miserable, adults that wore expressions of disgust. Filch and Snape were misery guts, though, so Harry discounted them from most observations.

He and Fleur had made their peace quite quickly enough, even if the girls weren't quite so forgiving. There was no real reason for her to apologise for the first task, since it was understandable for her to expect _somebody_ in the Hogwarts staff to warn him about the dragons, and the second task had done no harm to Harry; not in context to the tournament or in the more literal sense. Even with the significant disadvantage, he had easily outpaced the other champions in the muggle-esque activity. If he'd been able to compete fairly from the get go, Harry would have just _humiliated_ the other three. Why wouldn't she, and the other two for that matter, try to handicap him a little? Not that Harry was as forgiving to Thomas; mainly because the brat had nearly strangled him, or to Krum. Granted, he'd exchanged no more than a handful of words with the sullen Champion, and so didn't feel any compulsion to forgive his fiercest competitor for the slight but, still, Victor was in his bad books for _that_ stunt. Harry would get further revenge in the next task; it would not do to bring his grudge out of the tournament.

Thomas, meanwhile, didn't need Harry to make his life miserable. The rest of the school was doing that for the elder Potter. Since the boy had collapsed; caked in mud from head to toe, before the fourth obstacle, his peers had taken to giving him some rather uncreative nicknames.

The-boy-who-crawled, for example.

Or, in the case of some Slytherins, Mud-boy. Harry realised that this was a dig at the company Thomas kept, but, as long as nobody was overly cruel to the boy's companions, he didn't care. Maybe this would convince the Weasleys and Hermione to separate themselves from Thomas Potter before they were dragged down with him. The-boy-who-lived's fame would last _seconds_ in the outside world; and then the people would see that he was rotten.

Thomas, snivelling boy that he was, had been seen crying to his mother after Harry informed him that he had to speed up with the apologies, and that the deadline would be _at_ the ball. Lily Potter, in a rare show of common sense, had realised that lecturing Harry on being _nice_ to his younger brother would not end well, and told Thomas that he had made his bed, in being cruel to his fellow students, and would have to lie in it.

Crybaby wasn't exactly new, but it bothered their resident-celebrity, and that made Harry happy. Almost as much as the promise of Thomas humiliating himself at the Yule celebration. He had a _lot_ of apologies to make on that day.

Well, that promise made him joyful right up until something occurred to Harry. Something he was pissed that he had overlooked.

He didn't have a date. Three days away from the blasted dance.

And he was a champion, so he couldn't very well skip the damned thing; it was compulsory for _him._ Nor did he want to miss his brother's show. But, if he'd had a choice, he certainly wouldn't have danced. People were... weird about dancing. He was good at it, of course; that came hand in hand with having a feline as one of his alternate forms, but that did not mean he understood it. Why did they put such emphasis on moving strangely to music? Why was it meant to be _fun_?

Now, he didn't expect to have any trouble with finding a date to the ball; the girls were rarely around other males, so it would stand to reason that one of them would be willing to go with him. But this wasn't the case.

Four... homosexuals had asked them. Apparently; and this was what their dates, who were dating each other, had told Harry, the other males in the population had been torn on whether to take their chances with the four beauties. Caroline and Jasmine would have been asked Merlin knows how many times, since they were Ravenclaws, and so far more approachable than Tracy and Daphne. Even with the Slytherin girls' negative reputation, there was every chance that their appeal would trump the aversion other houses held for their kind, or maybe it would just be other Slytherins that hounded them for dates. Some would have been deterred by the fact that Harry had no aversion to hurting people on the rare occasion somebody was dumb enough to annoy him, but others would have braved the retaliation because of their deluded expectation that they'd _score_ with one of the most attractive girls in the school.

Harry could not comprehend why the girls, especially Daphne, who disliked such events almost as much as Harry since she had been dragged to them with sickening frequency as a child, would have gone. _All_ of them hated being drooled over, and they would certainly suffer from that at the ball, so why would they do so?

Meanwhile, Fleur, who would have been Harry's only other choice, had given in to one of the Ravenclaw fools and said yes to his invitation to dace, according to the cherry vine.

Wait... that wasn't it.

The grape vine. That was the name for the blasted gossips.

Anyway, Fleur had had to find a date, too, as a champion. Roger... something-or-other was apparently the best offer she received. Harry was fairly certain she'd been convinced to agree by Ronald Weasley's embarrassing display in the entrance hall; the raven haired Sixth Year would wager the idea of dancing with the slob was now her Boggart's form.

All in all, Harry was in trouble.

It wasn't that he had no options. When he was actually paying attention to that kind of thing, even Harry wasn't blind enough to miss the interest girls had displayed since his stag-status had spread around the school. Some were even tolerable, but that didn't change the real issue.

Lord Greengrass had taught him how important manners were in these strange situations, and it would be _rude_ to invite a girl to the dance he had no intention to dance with. Since there were five girls with whom he'd be willing to dance, that presented an issue. So... yep, Harry was in trouble.

As he was wondering how he should continue, and just _what_ would happen to him if he didn't show up at the ball, Harry became aware of a conversation, seeming to consist mostly of giggles, taking place at the table over from his in the library. Based on the disgusting amount of perfume that was scratching at his nose, and the high pitch, Harry made the safe assumption that the source was one of the groups of girls that had been eyeing him recently. He caught snippets of their talk below the giggles, and it was far from reassuring.

"_Go_ on... _ask_... single... obviously not... gays... dating Roger..." Was there any chance they weren't talking about him?

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he discarded that thought. Turning, Harry found himself face to face with a brunette fifth year girl. A Hufflepuff, based on her tie. With a calm facade, that did not betray the storm he was cursing up in his head, Harry spoke.

"Yes?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"H-Hi, m- Um, I'm Jane." She stammered.

"Hi, Jane, I'm Harry." Harry responded, courteously. "Is there something you need?"

"M-Me and my friends," The Fifth year waved a hand over towards the table she had vacated, where four other girls sat, while continuing to stare at Harry. "Were wondering if- um, if it was true you don't have a date? To the Yule Ball, I mean."

"That's true." Harry nodded.

"Well... Well, I don't have a date either." The girl told Harry, in a far-from-subtle hint. Why did she have to go and be nervous?

If the girl had been arrogant about her request, Harry would have had no trouble shooting her down, but he felt like she'd cry, based on her nerves, if he was to be rude about it.

Anyway, he did _have_ to find a date. This was convenient, and the girl was pleasant enough; pretty, and, from what he had seen so far, kind. He couldn't remember being told anything bad about her before, so why not ask her? Either her, now, or some other girl later on. This way, Harry wouldn't have it hanging over his head for the next couple of days. If she was shy, maybe this Jane wouldn't want to dance too many times. Harry could handle slow-dancing, if he had to; the fast baffled him even more.

"Would you accompany me to the dance, then, Jane?"

-()(_)()-

Later that week, in her dorm in Slytherin House, after finally hearing of the pairings to the Ball, Daphne Greengrass was fuming. That was a state that was becoming remarkably common in the historically icy girl, and that did not bode well for the future health of the three people who she was especially furious with. Even if some of this, admittedly, held little relevance to the dance.

First and foremost was Fleur Delacour. How _dare_ she betray Harry like that, after all he had done for her? Saving her _twice_ from a fate worse than death; first at the Quiddich World Cup, and second from being a _slave_ to Thomas Potter with the title of his wife. Harry had never been anything but kind to the French Bitch, and Fleur had stabbed him in the back at the first, and second, chance she got. Harry could have died in the First Task, all because the Veela-Whore refused to give him fair warning about what he would be facing. Then, in the second Task, the Slut had _blind-sided_ him, and tried to leave Harry in last place! It would be one thing if she'd done the same to the other two, but it was _only_ Harry. Not only that, now there were rumours going around the school that she had betrayed Harry yet again, and was now dating Roger Davies. _Fucking_ Roger Davies. Daphne could not help but hope Harry would leave her to marry his little-shit of a brother.

The blonde English girl did not listen to Caroline's half-hearted defence of the Delacour girl; in regards to two of her offences, in that Fleur had been hindering the strongest competitor and had expected Harry to be told, as she had been, by somebody in his school that they were facing _dragons_.

Then, there was the little... the little _Cunt_ that Harry was going to the Ball with. It was all the other girls could do to stop their friend from attacking Jane Swan, a Hufflepuff girl none of them knew particularly well. Daphne hated the girl at this point, and nobody attempted to appease her, since they despised the girl almost as much as Daphne just... less vocally.

And, lastly, was Harry himself. She didn't _hate_ her... friend, but Daphne certainly was _pissed_. It didn't matter how much Tracy pointed out, in a bitter tone, that it was their fault for leaving him with no option other than to find a girl to accompany, since he was a champion; they had assumed Harry would accompany his _fiance_ to the ball, and so accepted invitations from boys that would leave them alone after the start of the dance. Even the Greengrass heiress couldn't find it in herself to blame the boys that had asked them, since they had been nothing but pleasant in the few conversations she shared with them, and had asked them because they thought it would be the right thing to do.

Harry was backed in to a corner, but that did not stop Daphne from being livid with the teen. He could have asked her _before_ the others convinced her to give up on waiting. Maybe she should blame Tracy, Caroline and Jasmine! If not for them, _she_ would be going with Harry, instead of the little slut he'd had to settle for.

Urgh!

"What now?" Tracy asked, letting Daphne know that that last noise had been out loud.

"It's _your_ fault all this is happening." Daphne glowered at her fellow Slytherin. "If _you_ hadn't told me to go with Theo, Harry would have asked me, and wouldn't be going with that little bitch!"

"I didn't make you accept his invitation!" Tracy replied. "And it's not only you that wanted to go with Harry! Don't blame _me_; blame yourself!" Tracy's tone had vehemence that was rare for the amber-eyed brunette, as she returned Daphne's glare.

"You told me he was going to the Ball with Fleur!" Daphne snarled.

"I said he'd _probably_ be going with her!" Tracy corrected, heatedly.

By this point, both girls were sat up in their beds, scowling across the shared room. Had anyone else been there, they would have gotten out of the girls' way before spells started flying.

-()-()()-()-

At the same time as Tracy and Daphne's anger dissolved in to a duel, a blonde Veela was having as bad a time inside her own residence. Sat to her left, her cousin began edging away from Fleur. Astrid Aucoin, daughter of Fleur's mother's sister, regretted taking this seat as her cousin's hands began to smoke.

It was virtually unheard of for a Veela away from the clans to take her Avian form, but there _had_ been instances in which they started hurling fire, and Astrid would rather not be on the receiving end of it.

If only the stupid girls in front of the Veela pair had waited a few minutes before breaking this... news to Fleur, she wouldn't have to be in the line of fire. Or, if this idiot Englishman, Mr Davies, had not been such a _pig_.

"_He what_?!" Fleur exclaimed, in her native tongue. "_That... That _Brenleur de chiens morts!" She carried on, and the rest of other residents also backed away from the Delacour girl as she stood and begun to pace. "Abruti Batard! Fils de Pute! Je peux sentir ta chatte! Je t'emmerde! Va te faire enculer chez les Grecs!" The blonde beauty continued her rant that would make a grown man blush, as the others eyed the door as a means of escape

"Son of a whore!" The girl reached the limits of her knowledge in her own tongue's curses, so she turned to English. "Cat fucking, disgusting Englishman! How dare he?!"

"I- I am sure he was simply mistaken, Fleur." One of her friends attempted to reassure; only to whimper and back away as Fleur turned an incensed gaze upon her.

"_Mistaken_?! _I assure you, Ella, I was quite clear_!" The girl lamented, at the notion; showing the fiery temper of her kind. "He cannot have thought I would not hear of this! I will teach him the idiocy of spreading rumours about me!"

"Cousin! Please calm yourself!" Astrid begged, as she saw a small flame ignite on Fleur's palm. "He is not worth getting so... so incomposed!"

The elder Veela did not respond, other than to exit the room; the door slamming shut behind her.

-()(_)()-

It was only a day from the Yule Ball when Harry set to the task; spending Christmas Eve sat staring at a golden egg, holed up in his room. All of Hogwarts seemed to reflect the excitement that _most_ people felt for the following day; both for Christmas, which Harry vaguely understood enjoying because of the cheer and presents, and the Ball, which was less understandable. Being segregated from them, by choice, was preferable to their Champion. Even if a screeching egg was his only company, he'd rather be alone in his room than have suits of armour jumping out and singing carols at him. For some reason, the teachers took it badly when he smashed them.

"What the hell is that _noise_?" Harry questioned, as he slammed the egg shut once again. "How am I meant to understand this?" The Sixth year asked of nothing in particular. Upon receiving no response, the animagus' temper flared.

"Bah!" Harry seized the egg, and threw it against the far wall.

That achieved nothing at all, and he swore loudly at the egg where it fell, and then, again, at the cracks that now sat in the wall.

"Okay; so screeching could mean we're facing... giant birds?" Harry guessed. "No, no. After Dragons, that would be a pathetic challenge." He shook his head. "Maybe it's the _gold_ that is significant. So we could be searching for that, perhaps. In a maze? Tunnels? Or maybe it would be... fighting golden models? _Ridiculous_." He spat at himself; it was stupid to think something like that. "It must be the thrice damned sound. So... Ugh." He threw himself on to the double bed in his room, and thought some more.

Harry drew his trusty, self-made wand and started casting; to let his subconscious have a go at the nature of the sound.

What did it mean?

-()-()-()-

That same thought was still plaguing Harry that night, when he entered the Great Hall for an early dinner. It was quite packed, of course; with the number of people packed into the Castle at the moment, you'd be very hard pressed to find a time it was empty. Attention turned to Harry briefly, before the students of three schools went back to discussing the next day. As Harry walked over to the Slytherin table, where he quickly found an empty space since the girls were not present. He took his seat, facing the rest of the hall, and begun the meal.

His time spent eating was uneventful, other than some small observations Harry made through it. First, he glanced over at the table of the so-called Lions. Over there; Thomas, who was most of interest in that house to Harry as a competitor, no matter how pathetic a challenge he presented, looked slightly ill. Harry would guess he was not looking forward to the dance anymore than the his brother. Nor was the ginger boy sat at his side. Hermione, on the other hand, was doing what she could to hide her anticipation of the coming dance. From the looks she shot at the Bulgarians, Harry guessed she was going with one of the Durmstrang boys.

The Weasley twins were whispering together; conspiring for something Harry would have to keep an eye out for. The pranksters being secretive _promised_ trouble.

On the next table over, sat the house that most Slytherins looked down on, though Harry was less inclined to do so. The Hufflepuffs were called the 'House of the Spares' unfortunately often, and that showed the prestige they held in the eyes of Harry's house. At the table, Jane; who's last name he neglected to learn, looked to be having quite the conversation in excited whispers with a group of her friends while shooting _covert_ glances at the Slythein table; while Cedric Diggory, who usually had quite a lot of attention from the people around him, made googly eyes at an Asian girl sat at the next table.

Ravenclaw didn't hold much of interest to Harry, since the girls, including Fleur, were missing. There was Cho Chang, if he remembered her name correctly, returning Cedric's sappy gaze, and Roger Davies who was looking nervously around the room with the expression of a guilty mutt while shovelling food in to his mouth faster even than Ronald Weasley. Why was Fleur's date in such a hurry?

Then there was Harry's table. Krum was... different today. He'd never seen the sullen Durmstrang boy look like this, but it seemed to be... _nervousness_. That was a mystery; even more than Davies' behaviour, though that may have been because the Ravenclaw was of little importance to him, other than some irrational annoyance that Roger was going with Fleur. Harry did not believe the rumours about the French girl dating the boy. He'd heard from her, like most every girl from her school, complain about the Englishmen and Roger was no different from the rest of them; unless you counted the fact that he was rather plain on the surface, and so seeming _less_ disgusting than others.

It wouldn't be until the next day that Harry discover that Roger's reputation was well tarnished since he had spread rumours about... intimacy between he and the Beauxbatons' champion. The Veela's reaction would further increase the entertainment value of Christmas.

Veela...

Maybe it wasn't a mundane creature, such as a bird, but a _magical_ creature that the egg was hinting at. What magical creatures _screech_? Harry wondered, as he drummed his fingernails against the surface of the table.

Had the thrum of the crowd not been as loud as it was, Harry's exclamation may have given his fellow champions a rather serious clue for the next task.

"Fucking Mermaids!"


	16. The Ball: Part 1

**HAVE POSTED A RESPONSE ON MY REVIEW PAGE. I feel awkward having posted a review for my own story, but the issues that people seem to have trouble with are explained as best as I can there. Chapter 15; the very long review, for any who want to find said response. I hope it helps with the issues people have, and will respond to any other confusion whenever possible. Other than that, I hope this chapter helps.**

**This is the first part of the Yule Ball; I hope you enjoy the chapter.**

Itchy.

That was the only thing Harry was thinking as he donned the clothes he was expected to wear, and was one of two things he could think now that he was observing his reflection to make sure he'd put them on the way they'd been displayed in the store.

Itchy and _weird_. Why were males expected to wear dresses in the Wizarding world? What was with the popularity of cross-dressing, and why weren't the muggle suits an option? They may not stop him from being itchy, bet Harry was willing to bet they would look at least _somewhat_ normal; unlike the black and emerald _dress_ he was wearing. Well dress-robes were what they'd been listed as, and he was doubtful that many girls would share his build, suggesting that they were intended for males, but _still_.

Grumbling, he turned away from the reflection and checked the time. Half an hour until the time he had agreed with Jane; the time the champions were told to congregate in the Entrance Hall, and Harry was ready.

Not that there was much for him to do. In preparation for the dance, the animagus had shaved, showered, and dressed; the same preparation he had for a typical day at Hogwarts. Was that bad? Should he put in some extra effort, since it was supposed to be a _special_ night? Well, there was nothing he could do about his eternally messy hair, so that wasn't an option. Even in the Wizarding community, men weren't _expected_ to wear make-up, even if Harry strongly suspected some of wizards did, so that was a unique to females. He'd bought dress shoes for the occasion, and to Harry that was pulling out all the stops; it made no sense to him whatsoever to spend so much on things he'd wear so infrequently.

At the time he went shopping, though, Harry had assumed his appearance would be reported back to Lord and Lady Greengrass, and they'd emphasised the importance of looking the part when going to functions. Harry was fairly sure this counted as a function, so he'd finally spent some of the money they gave him as an allowance; asking the effeminate store assistance for help in selecting what robes he should wear and being given… positive feedback on his appearance by the man. Camp, Harry believed was the term for the shop assistant; though actually using the word '_fabulous'_ made it seem like the man may have been overdoing it.

With one last scratch, since he believed it would be rude to do so in the Hall, and a growl at his stupid reflection, Harry turned and left; giving himself plenty of time to arrive and await his date. He'd been given a useful book by Daphne and Astoria's father for occasions such as these that was quite detailed in how to be what the woman who wrote it called a 'perfect gentleman', and waiting for them was included. Harry didn't want to be gentle in front of Krum while they were still competing, but apparently it was not optional.

-()_()_()—

The Entrance Hall was less… festive, though more decorated, It had moved away from the Christmassy decorations; going so far as to do away with the large tree that had been in one corner, and towards a more winter-ish décor. There was the wizarding equivalent of fake snow; which was basically snow that did not melt and was indoors, falling softly from the ceiling, and light blue banners hanging over each wall.

When Harry arrived in the hall, he saw that many other males must have owned the same book, as they, too, were waiting for their 'dates'. He spotted Krum, Roger and Thomas over in one corner and made the assumption that this was where the Champions were to meet. As he neared, he observed the three.

His brother was, evidently, much more used to the robes he wore than Harry; should he have worn them in before the dance? Thomas, instead, looked like he would vomit; not a reaction that Harry could see coming from the itchiness of robes. It must be because of the nerves that the younger Potter seemed to share with lots of the males present; Harry wondered who he would have asked to the dance. Hermione, maybe? It would make sense for them to go as friends, but why would Thomas be so nervous about dancing with her? Maybe he was attracted to the girl.

Hm. The other two looked nervous, as well. That was odd.

Victor's expression was twisted in to a poor imitation of his usual boredom; Harry guessed this was in an attempt to remain cool and calm, or to convince his date of his coolness and calmness. His eyes, however, were locked on to the stairs, and his face _slightly_ resembled what Harry perceived as a crestfallen expression each time a girl appeared. Slower eyes would not likely have caught the disappointment, though, as Victor hid it under the mask each time; only to have it crop up again next time a female appeared on the stairs.

Roger's nervousness was different, though. Underneath the copious amounts of cologne that made Harry cringe, there was a slight smell of _fear_. That seemed like a rather extreme reaction, but maybe it was fear of embarrassing himself due to Fleur's Veela aura. Yes, that made sense. Trembling seemed like an overreaction, though. Could trembling signify more than one emotion? Harry had a feeling it could signal anticipation, but the fear seemed to contradict that. How could one be afraid and excited at the same time?

The homosexuals that asked the girls were in the hall, as well, and Harry felt his brow sink in to a glare briefly before he caught himself. Jealousy of the boys was silly; nothing would happen between the girls and their dates when the four boys were obviously more intimate with each other, based on the distance, or lack thereof, between them; they were far closer to each other than would be feasible in straight males.

Most boys seemed to have gathered at the bottom of the stairs, as that was where the majority of their dates would appear; Hufflepuff girls would come from the ground floor, so there were some waiting at the mouth of that corridor, and the few Slytherin girls going with members of other houses; Daphne and Tracy being in this number, would also appear away from the staircase, but Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, and Hufflepuff, though they were also separate, were far more... approachable than those in Slytherin.

The first male of this foursome to have their date arrive was, as Harry spotted, Krum. This time, as a girl appeared at the top of the stairs, a grin spread across the Bulgarian's face; lingering for a moment, before it transformed in to a determined expression and Victor left the corner; shouldering his way through boys to get to the bottom step.

His strange behaviour made Harry curious, and the Hogwarts champion glanced up to the top of the stairs just as his brother's jaw dropped. Hermione looked rather nice, in Harry's view. Many of those present would argue that 'very nice' did not cut it, but the Sixth year did not think that the Fourth year was quite old enough to be anything more. If Krum had been someone other than the famous Seeker, no doubt people would make comments on his bringing a girl more than two years younger than him to the Ball. As it was, Harry did not think it was any of his business. Unless the Durmstrang boy crossed the line, Harry wouldn't have any motivation to intervene; though, based on the fact that his face was as red as his hair, Ron Weasley may not have felt the same.

The notion of his friend making a commotion reminded Harry of something.

"So, Brother," He began. "When are you going to begin the apologies? I know for a fact that you have done less than half; and you only have until the end of the night to finish up." Apparently Hermione, and Harry was sure it was her hand at play, had convinced Thomas to get started on his task; there were people he had been cruel to that wouldn't be in Hogwarts tonight, after all.

"Soon," Thomas grumbled; too focused on the daunting event ahead to give any more of an answer. As Thomas started looking a lot greener around the gills, Harry snickered; and followed his line brother's line of sight. Twin Indian girls were stood at the bottom of the stairs; smiling over at the spare Champion of Hogwarts. Thomas, pausing only to get his red haired friend's attention, slowly made his way over to the Patil twins; obviously lacking Victor's enthusiasm.

As Ron made his way over, a pair of wolf-whistles came from one side of the room from his twin brothers. Next to each was one of the twins Harry remembered Fred and George ogling during the talent show; he hadn't made use of that as blackmail, and apparently that door had shut. Oh well.

"Alright, Roger?" Harry asked, in what he thought was a civil tone. From the look he got in return you'd think he'd threatened to bludgeon the boy to death if he didn't leave immediately; a conversation route Harry had ruled out long before; that wouldn't be polite at all. "Okay... are you looking forward to the dance?" What was with this boy?! Roger Davies looked about to hurl, and Harry decided to abandon the one-sided chat before he got vomit on his expensive shoes. "See you later, then."

Jane, presumably, would be coming from her common room soon, and so Harry began to weave his way through the crowd between him and the corridor just as a _creak_ sounded behind him Looking over his shoulder, he saw the origin; the doors to the Great hall had opened. Whether he had missed the key to enter, or if people were just following somebody's lead, Harry didn't know, but the waiting students began to file in through the large arch immediately. He continued against the tide and came to a stop in the centre of his target corridor with a _silent_ growl; his lips curling in to a snarl without sound, at just the wrong time.

"U-Um, I-I'm sorry?" Jane Grace apologised to her date; in a fearful tone. Harry could see that the girl wasn't sure _why_ she was apologising, and knew she was wrong to apologise. Harry noted that she was much more attractive than she had appeared in the library. He would have called her rather plain; not a particularly bad thing, in Harry's opinion, but apparently the girl disagreed. He assumed that her gaggle of friends, who were not present at the moment, had helped her with the make-up she wore.

"No, _I_ am. I wasn't angry with you; I was annoyed about the crowd I just fought my way through." Harry tried to give a reassuring smile to the girl and, based on the relieved expression she gained from it, succeeded in calming her down. That smile did more harm than good for Harry, however, as a foursome arrived at the top of the stairs. Daphne and Tracy, it turned out, had gotten ready with the other two after, unknown to Harry, Caroline and Jasmine had forced the two Slytherins to have a civil chat. Daphne's very visible glare, directed just long enough to re-scare Jane, was cut off by Caroline nudging her hard in the side. With a huff that Harry's ears barely caught, Daphne led the other three in to the dance hall.

At Jane's audible gulp, Harry raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" He turned to follow her gaze, and saw the familiar backs of the girls entering the hall. "What happened?"

"G-Greengrass. I don-don't think she likes me much." Jane stuttered nervously, and glanced at Harry for reassurance.

"Probably not, but her bark's worse than her bite." He smirked at his inside joke, at the notion of barking and biting. "Though I would recommend not getting bitten."

"I don't understand... I thought she had a date."

"She does." Harry agreed. Jane waited for more, but Harry didn't continue as he turned to check the others were still here. Or, at least, _three_ of the other Champions. Fleur had yet to arrive, and Roger still looked nerve-racked.

"Well... why is she angry with me, then?" Jane was confused; if Daphne was dating someone else, why would Harry's date be the subject of her ire? She expressed the question to Harry. "Well... if she's... um, dating another guy..."

"She's not dating him. He's gay." Harry answered with a shake of his head, as he and Jane began to make their way to Krum and Hermione, Thomas and his date, and Roger.

"Gay? Oh..." She trailed off, in a worried tone once again. "So why didn't she ask you to the Ball?" The Hufflepuff wondered aloud. The strange look Jane received didn't help much with her nerves.

"You're a muggleborn, then?" It wasn't much of a surprise that the evidently shy girl became panicked at Harry's question, and glanced at his robes; specifically the green trimmings, before hesitating to answer. "No! No, you misunderstand," Harry shook his head and raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not a prejudiced idiot like a lot of my house; it's just that someone raised in the Wizarding World would understand why that question is a little silly. The old families, and I mean _all_ of the old families, would never condone such… untraditional actions. Even those that give their daughters freedom teach them from childhood that it's a guy's duty to ask a girl to this sort of thing. No matter how rebellious Daphne can sometimes be, she wouldn't ask anyone to the Ball. That would... risk ridicule for her parents."

"Okay…" Jane nodded slightly; relieved that her blood status wouldn't be an issue. "Um… if you don't mind my asking, why didn't you ask her to the ball? Or Fleur, if it's true that you're… um, betrothed?" The Hufflepuff asked Harry. "Do you not want to marry her?" Harry didn't catch the slight hopeful edge to her question.

"Marriage is… strange to me," Harry relied, not feeling the need to lie. "Especially in the Wizarding world, since I've yet to meet someone that believes in God; who they're getting married in front of. I doubt I would ever feel the compulsion to get married if my grandfather hadn't drawn up a contract for it, but Fleur seems nice, to me, and I'd hate to see her forced to marry my brother." Harry shrugged non-committally. "And the same is true for… this." He pointed at the Great Hall. "I didn't ask anybody to the Ball for quite a while because I didn't consider it. I felt no need to find a… date to it until a few days before, when I realised I _had_ to. That worked out well, though." He smiled at Jane, and her cheeks reddened slightly. The statement wasn't sincere, from Harry, but it was polite and clearly believable.

"You think she's nice?" Jane spotted a flaw in Harry's statement. "After she back stabbed you in the second task?"

"She didn't back stab me," Harry corrected, with a shake of the head. "Though Fleur, herself, though that I would, and should, be angry about that business, too. The tournament is a _game_." Harry emphasised; the statement carrying a second purpose as he caught a whiff of an intoxicating scent; one that would render most males of the human race catatonic. "And I easily won the task even _with_ that disadvantage. She, and the other two, for that matter, was trying to give herself a chance at winning. If I was ever in the same situation," Harry left out that he sincerely doubted he _would_ be. There was no need to add that. "I'm sure I would do the same."

"But she attacked you!"

"With _rope_. Since it was neither in a noose, or tied to the back of a horse, I don't know why people keep acting like she committed some heinous act." And people had been; Harry had heard quite a few Hogwarts students bitching about Fleur's _betrayal_, as though she did something wrong. She didn't look to be too bothered by the harassment, though, so he felt no need to intervene."There are records of people killing each other in the Triwizard tournament, after all."

"Yet she's dating Roger Davies?" The shy girl was adamant, apparently, that Fleur had done something wrong. Harry opened his mouth to correct her, and was surprised to see the Hufflepuff continue; not allowing him to speak. "I doubt that someone like you would have heard yet," Harry chose to take that as someone largely antisocial. "But everyone knows she's been _fucking_ him behind your back!" Harry had to say, he was surprised to hear Jane swear. He was even more surprised that the girl had yet to notice Fleur in the hall with them.

"No she hasn't." Harry shook his head, and the girl looked at him like he'd just dribbled all over himself.

"I really didn't think you were dumb enough to take her at her word! Everyone from Beauxbatons talks about how much of a slut she is! It's a _game_ to her, and you're probably her next target!" By this point, Jane's attitude had done a one-eighty; surprising Harry, and he easily felt the tension in the room at this point; how the girl yelling at him had not, the Champion had no idea. Nor was he sure why Fleur had not started yelling back just yet; but the expression on her face as she stared at Harry was an odd one. Panic, perhaps? If she was panicking... no. Harry's nostrils flared, and he caught the Veela's sent once again. A pure form of said scent, the same as always.

"Well, I can safely say that she hasn't done anything like that since I met her in the summer. I can't guarantee anything before that, admittedly." Harry moved his line of sight from Jane to Fleur, and asked a question he was quite certain he knew the answer to. "Were the girls of your school lying?"

"Oui." Hm. Harry hadn't ever heard someone make the French word for yes sound angry, but Fleur had managed. "Zey were." She hissed in response.

"Can I ask why?" Harry queried, with a scowl.

"Zey are jealous leettle _putes_! Just because I am a veela, zey believe zat I must be _fucking_ zeir boyfriends because zey are pigs with no self control!" Obviously Fleur was bothered by something, and Harry was curious what it was. This couldn't be _new, _after all. Although, Harry supposed that _something_ could be. Even with her reaction, it was easy for him to tell that the Delacour heiress was telling the truth. Her body was giving none of the tells Harry could detect, and so he trusted her words.

"Who said that you and Roger were... fucking?" Harry asked, in a growl, as his eyes flicked to Roger.

"_Him_." She replied, confirming Harry's suspicions. It was unfortunate; for Harry, at least, that his next action was interrupted. He'd have to wait his turn, apparently.

-()_()-

As they walked in to the room, the Hogwarts champion was glaring at the back of the Ravenclaw date of his fiance; if looks could kill, then Roger wouldn't have made it in to the dance Hall. Based on the fact that he was sweating profusely, with a look of terror on his face while Fleur had a blatantly fake calm mask on her face as her fingernails drew blood, from the man who's arms she was holding.

Next to Harry, with a far softer grip on his arm, Jane had a bright red face. The Hufflepuff girl had quickly lost her confidence upon realising that Fleur was stood behind her during her unfriendly exclamations. She was nervous about Harry's reaction to her rudeness; not that Harry viewed it as particularly serious, since Fleur had only expressed anger to Rodger, and his anger was focused entirely on him.

Well, Harry's ire was focused on the Ravenclaw until he realised that most other people's attention was on _him_ and the anger that was on his face.

"I'm curious," Harry began; turning the conversation towards Jane, as he believed that to be what girls liked to happen; and it had the benefit of distracting him a little. "Considering how shy you seem to be, why is it that you... hinted that you'd want to go with one of the Champions? You knew we have to dance first, didn't you?"

"Uh, yes. I knew that," Jane nodded. "My friends gave me a push, when we heard you didn't have a date. I was the only one who didn't have a date yet."

"Oh? Why didn't you have one? You're attractive, and pleasant. Not that many of the guys seem to care about how nice their dates are." At least a few girls had been courted by multiple guys despite being _intolerable_ from Harry's perspective.

"I'm... um, I get called..." The girl mumbled something that was only gibberish from what Harry heard.

"Called what?" He asked.

"Frigid." Jane admitted.

"And that means?"

"Um... I'm not- I don't..." The girl was saved from answering the question as music began to play, and the four pairs took their partner's hands; Roger's face suggesting that Fleur had quite a strong grip as her nails dug in once again. Harry couldn't help but wonder why the boy had shown up; if he spread rumours like that, he must have known that pain would be delivered to him at the Ball. He couldn't be stupid enough to think anything _better _would happen, could he? Not unless he was shamefully ill-suited to the house of intellectuals.

Harry let himself zone out, as he led Jane around the space cleared for the champions, and saw that she had finally stopped blushing; instead focusing on his face as was customary in this particular step, though the Patil girl had decided that the drama unfolding was more interesting than Thomas, and Roger was trying desperately not to meet Fleur's murderous gaze.

Something told Harry that others were interested in how this dance would end, as well as his brother's date; whether some of the spectators thought it was a lovers quarrel, or if they had figured out that . Every eye in the hall seemed to be watching Roger's clumsy feet; all except for Krum and Hermione; both of whom, apparently, were lost in the other, and Jane and Harry who, except for the glances they were giving to the dramatic pair, did the required for this slow dance.

As the music came to an end; there was not the light applause that was customary at the end of the Champions' dance. Instead, the watchers, as a collective, seemed to lean forwards. Harry saw that even some teachers seemed to express interest, as Maxine looked happy about this revelation, Snape looked on with slightly sadistic glee, and Moody had an eerily similar expression on his mangled face. Harry dismissed it as another of the ex-Auror's quirks as he, too, watched with anticipation.

And then cringed as Fleur brought her knee up into the groin of her _date_, and Harry's sensitive ears caught a _crunch_ in the silence of the hall. Around the room, other males shared the same reaction, and many crossed their legs.

"Az zough I would ever date such a pathetic leetle imbecile." The French girl turned, with a flick of her hair, and strode in to the crowd just as Roger fell to the floor with a whimper, and tears filled his eyes.

As one of Roger's friends from his year rushed forwards to help, a growl stopped him in his tracks, and Harry jerked his chin back in the direction the Ravenclaw had come. With a helpless glance at Roger, the boy retreated. The noise, and unvoiced threat, was enough to prevent anyone else from attempting the same.

"Well... now that that is settled, I would ask the Champions to join the head table," Dumbledore drew attention from the crying boy in their midsts as Madame Pomphrey made her way down to take him to the Hospital Wing. "And we can begin today's meal."

-()_()-

The meal was okay. The few government officials that had turned up, including Percy Weasley, fawned over a preening Thomas Potter for most of it, while Jane seemed very uncomfortable sat at the Head Table, and did not make any conversation with Harry. The raven haired champion was not very broken up by this; nor by Fleur's apparent inability to form coherent sentences as she decided she had not done enough to Davies and would have to hurt him some more. That she kept muttering things to do with "Fire" and "Melting" did not bode well for the Ravenclaw.

After a brief worry that he may be marrying a pyromaniac in the future, Harry remembered that Veela were quite attuned with flames, and dismissed the moment of panic. Instead, he focused on his food, and how, and when, he could teach the boy a lesson himself.

He didn't expect the opportunity to come so quickly.

"Fleur," A female voice began, and Harry turned to see Madame Maxine talking to her champion. "I am _afraid_ I have to ask you not to cause another scene." The massive woman shot a far-from-subtle glare at Barty Crouch as Roger Davies hobbled back in to the room. How stupidly proud could you be?

Well, nobody said Harry couldn't make a scene.

For the next twenty minutes, Harry fulfilled what he considered to be his duty in accompanying Jane to the dance; they danced to fast songs and, to his displeasure, some of The weird Sisters' better known faster compositions; Jane was a fan. Then, when the girl was worn out and went to sit with her friends, Harry moved off to find his own.

At the same time, Harry saw that Thomas had begun subtly saying his apologies; moving around the room as he left his date sat alone until a Durmstrang boy scooped her up. Harry was slightly annoyed that his little brother wasn't enough of an idiot to be more blatant about it, but was sure the Gryffindor would cause a commotion sooner or later.

The first of the girls Harry was searching for that he managed to locate was Tracy, who was stood at the drinks table; guarded from spiking by Severus Snape.

"A smart place to avoid having to dance, Sir." Harry commented, and received a very subtle smirk in response. He knew that was the bat-like Professor's motivation for taking this duty. Or maybe it was so that Gryffindors, too afraid to venture near the Potions professor, would die of thirst. "Hi, Trace," Harry smiled at the girl; receiving the same, before noticing a slight discolouring around her eye.

Reaching up, he brushed a thumb against it, and growled as his friend flinched away. "Who?" He asked, in a snarl. "Who did that?" His eyes locked on the nearest male student, and Harry took a step forwards, his hand coming up to seize the Durmstrang boy's shoulder.

"Hey!" Tracy grabbed his arm before Harry could grab the possible culprit, and responded to his question. "It was Daphne! We got in to a scuffle; it's nothing!"

"If you're lying..." Harry glared at the boy, with his lips curled back in a silent growl/

"I haven't even spoken to him, dummy." Tracy pulled on her friend's arm, and continued. "Now come on. I want to dance."

As the pair begun to dance, a pair of blonde girls; both slightly short-tempered for that night, struck up a conversation. One of the first that they had had unsupervised for good reason.

"You better remember, just because _Harry_ has forgiven you for Merlin knows what reason, doesn't mean _I_ have." Daphne Greengrass hissed at Fleur Delacour, with narrowed eyes.

"And what are you going to do about eet?" The French girl responded, haughtily. "Eef you want to duel, I would be happy to oblige. I am een _no mood_ to be insulted."

"Oh, I'd love to, but I think I've got a much better plan." Daphne smirked at Fleur. "If Harry was to give up the Betrothal contract, he would not suffer any significant penalties as long as someone in his house is willing and able to take his place." The smirk grew as Fleur's haughty-look faltered and a small amount of fear shone through. "I believe that I could convince him to give you to his little brother... if I was so inclined." The French girl swallowed once; silent, and reached the inevitable conclusion.

"Are you blackmailing me?" Fleur asked; a tremor in her voice at the thought of being... _used_ by the-boy-who-lived. She knew that Daphne was very close to Harry; likely enough to convince him to let her, a relative stranger, go to Thomas, if persistent enough. It was one of her greatest fears; to be a slave like so many of her kind.

"Not at all," Was Daphne's response as she donned a cool mask, though her eyes glinted with amusement. "_That_ would be illegal."

"So you're just going to make me _guess_ how to stop you?" Fleur questioned, with anger.

"Well, I suppose we could talk about what I would _theoretically _want, if I were to _hypothetically_ blackmail you." The Slytherin girl's lips twitched with amusement as Fleur's frown became more prominent. They both knew that, at that moment, with Daphne's threats fresh in her mind, the Delacour girl would not _dare_ do anything to the slightly shorter blonde; even with the violet eyes _daring_ her to.

"Well that probably doesn't spell anything good, does it?" Harry asked, of the smiling brunette in his arms. Tracy turned her head, and glanced at Fleur and Daphne, before answering.

"Probably not," She leant in to Harry subtly, and continued. "But they haven't started hexing each other yet, so I wouldn't worry."

"Okay then," Harry accepted the comment, before a growl rumbled from his chest again; surprising Tracy somewhat. "Dammit, another fast song." The girl chuckled, and she and Harry moved closer to the edge as a crowd of people formed in the centre of the floor.

-(_)()(_)-

Roger Davies wasn't able to dance, even if he could find a girl in the hall willing to partner with him. Instead, he was sat; shifting uncomfortably, at the edge. His friends had abandoned him to dance with their dates, and so he was brooding in the corner with a drink in his hand that he very much wished was alcoholic. At the same time, his gaze; filled with loathing, rested on the Veela bitch that had humiliated him in front of the entire school, all for a little premature bragging. He would have fucked her after the Ball, anyway, so why was she being so pissy about it?

It was unfortunate, from Roger's perspective, that he was located in the corner of the Great Hall nearest the door. In Harry's eyes, this was perfect.

"C'mon," An arm wrapped around Roger's throat just as Albus Dumbledore was distracted by a fuming half-giant, and therefore could not see the apparent kidnapping taking place. "We're going to have a _chat_." A voice hissed in the Ravenclaw's ear. Harry pulled the boy out of the entrance-way a few seconds later, as he tried to wheeze out a plea for help.

The humiliated date of Fleur Delacour felt the icy air hit him as he was shoved out into the grounds, and sent rolling. He scrambled up while reaching for his wand, and managed to draw it, but not raise the stick, before a shadow caught him by the throat and pushed him against the outside wall. The boy had a good idea who had grabbed him by this point, and the glowing emerald orbs that hovered in front of his own as his feet dangled inches off the floor did pretty well to confirm his suspicions.

"P-Please," The boy gasped, remembering the tales of the other boy executing so many dark wizards. "D-Don't kill m-me!" Roger begged of Harry.

"Give me a reason not to." Harry growled. "_Convince _me that underneath your sick delusions there is something of _worth_, or I will break your neck."

"Please! You don't want to do thi-ugh!" Harry pulled him away, and then shoved him against the wall once more; knocking the wind out of the Ravenclaw.

"I assure you, I _do_." Was Harry's response. "Now give it a go; _give _me a reason."

"I didn't hurt anybody! It was only words!"

"Were you going to hurt her?!" Harry demanded, as his hand tightened momentarily around Roger's neck. "After the Ball?"

"N-No! No, I wasn't!" He would have _seduced_ the Veela; he wouldn't have _raped_ her. Harry snarled wordlessly before he responded.

"You're telling the truth," Harry said, in an annoyed tone; almost disappointed that he wouldn't get to take his frustrations out on Roger, when he _really_ wanted to. There was little chance that he'd be forgiven if he did, since the boy was not gulty of any crimes, and was too... weak to have committed any in the future. As Roger said, it was only words. "Fine." He spat, and stepped back; away from the wimp boy.

"Th-Thank yo-" Harry's fist _crunched_ in to Roger's nose, and the boy fell to the ground.

-()-()-()-

As Harry walked in to the Great Hall, after wiping Roger's blood off his hand, to an interesting scene. Then again, most of today had been interesting; far more than he'd predicted before the start of the Yule situation. This just happened to be more entertaining than even Fleur's knee meeting Roger's crotch, as he disliked seeing his _fiance_ in distress.

"Thomas Lillian Potter!" Hagrid was looming over the smaller boy, while Professor Potter yelled at the Fourth Year and James stood at her side; a rare, stern expression on his face. "How dare you risk your brother's life?! Hagrid _trusted_ you!"

Well, what was this about? And how the Hell did it involve Harry?


	17. The Ball: Part 2

**Here's another chapter of Feral; not much else to say here.**

**For the record, I took a while to update this because I lacked the motivation to write another chapter. I updated promptly last time because I wanted to update it along with my response to the reviewers.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter and, as always, would welcome reviews.**

**-()-()-()-**

Harry was, amazingly, managing to hold in his laughter as he watched his brother cower. Hagrid looked as angry as Harry had ever seen him, and the teen now understood _why_.

From the conversation so far, it was obvious that Thomas had _promised_ the half-Giant that he would tell his brother, and Hagrid's naivety had meant he trusted the rotten boy implicitly. Therefore, Hagrid had told expected Thomas to go and find his brother the moment he left the Forbidden Forest and tell Harry exactly what he had seen of the dragons. That he _didn't_ do this upset the big man, and Rubeus Hagrid was not somebody you wanted upset with you.

The next day, Harry would have a good laugh at the fear he could smell from this little brother; he'd never been so amused in his life as when the boy began to tremble under the half-giant's fury.

"What were you thinking?!" It wasn't Hagrid who asked this; the usually friendly man was beyond words at the notion of having a student's blood on his hands, and so was silently seething as he loomed over the boy. It didn't matter that Harry was uninjured to the Care of Magical Creatures teacher because Hagrid believed the opposite could easily have been true. Instead, James Potter showed a surprising ability for parenting as he berated Thomas. "Your brother could have been KILLED!"

"I… I didn't…" Thomas feebly denied the accusations; useless as he had all but confessed through his lack of denial earlier in the conversation.

"We _know_ you did! What would Ms Delacour have to gain from lying?! We know that Harry was not aware of the task when you were _supposed_ to tell him!"

"Th-that would have been cheating, though! And Harry would have told on me in a heartbeat!" A fair enough excuse; Harry was fairly sure he would have told Dumbledore of Thomas' knowledge. No, on second thought he would have told Crouch; Dumbledore wouldn't have disciplined Thomas after all; not the golden boy.

"So you would let him DIE?!" Lily yelled; with a surprising amount of emotion in her voice at the thought of her eldest son dying. Well it was surprising to Harry, but rather un-shocking to those with a higher opinion of the woman. And there were many of these people watching, as the volume of this confrontation had drawn a crowd from the party-goers. Harry wondered why his parents had been dumb enough to begin yelling before they were even off the staircase and on to the first-floor landing; where they were now stood.

"He _didn't_ die, though!" Was Thomas' response. The boy didn't believe that he was in the wrong, and expressed this view by abandoning his denial of the crimes. "So why are you yelling at me?!"

"Because we taught you better than this! We taught you to be nice to others!" Li;ly exclaimed, and Thomas' reply was cut off by a bark of laughter from the thus far ignored son of the Potters. And with that statement from his _mother_, Harry's mood shifted far away from the amusement he'd been feeling at his brother finally being told off.

"When?" Harry questioned, loudly. "You can't honestly believe that you've _taught_ him anything. I don't know what's compelled this change, but you've _never_ disciplined him before. You've never taught him anything at all, other than that the sun shines out of his ass."

"Yeah!" Thomas exclaimed. "It's your fault!" He ignored the fact that Harry's statement had been far from complimentary, and focused on the general tone blaming the elder Potters instead of him.

"Not my point, you little shit," Harry corrected Thomas. "Your behaviour is _justifiable_, it's not _forgivable_. Just because you were coddled as a kid, it doesn't mean that you can be such an intolerable person." Harry spat at his younger brother. "Much as I hate your parents, Hagrid was simply trying to help keep as many people safe as possible; the fact that you betrayed his trust just drags you even lower in my opinion." At this, Harry turned to the behemoth of a man, and spoke in a reassuring tone. "On that note; I'd like to say thank you, Hagrid, for attempting to protect me, and also that no harm was done by your trusting Thomas, though I would suggest not repeating that mistake in the future." The teacher didn't look all to reassured by this, but Harry had satisfied what he understood to be the social convention in this strange situation.

"I'm going back into the hall." Harry said, and made to walk back down the stairs and head back to more pleasant activities than this and his confrontation with Roger. Unfortunately, his parents weren't done just yet. They had a lot of trouble understanding that Harry hated them.

"Harry, wait-" James seized the boy's arms, and angry green eyes flashed; turning to face the head of House Potter with a snarl. In a moment, James was on the floor, clutching his mouth ,and Harry's fist was bloody; three teeth embedded in his knuckles.

"_Never_ lay your hand on me." Harry hissed at the man on the floor, and walked away; his shoulders squared as he resisted the temptation to do something Pomphrey could not fix. He was not satisfied by the moans of pain that followed him as Lily examined her husband promptly. Apparently she had not learned her lesson, however, as she yelled after Harry.

"_Harry James Potter_! Get back here _right now_!" She ordered her estranged son, and watched the teen pause. A growl rumbled in Harry's chest, and the Sixth year began to turn; though it would not have been the situation Lily intended had he completed the movement. Fortunately for everyone involved, Harry restrained himself and walked forwards, down the steps, and out of the Entrance Hall.

Too many people would have seen him, and Harry was aware of the inconvenience that would come from letting his temper get the better of him in the view of so many students and teachers; though no ministry officials were present, for some reason that was currently unknown to the Animagus.

-()-()-()—

A storm had begun to rage as Harry strode out of the castle, and burst in to a run; sprinting for the forest before he had cleared the light spilling from the open doorway. If someone saw him, it would be far less impactful than if he maintained his infuriating caution.

It took him no more than a half-minute to cross the treeline, and Harry was vaguely aware of low-hanging branches snapping against his chest as he barrelled through; unmindful of his surroundings as he replayed the scene inside his head. As he ran, Harry shed his clothes and left them strewn across his path.

The _fucking Potters_. How he hated them; even after so many years Harry was unable to let it wash off his back, as he did everything else. He hated the family that turned him in to _this_ more than Voldemort; who took away his loving grandparents; hated them far more than the irrelevant teenagers that annoyed him during his days at school. He hated them more than he detested his own demons, even, and that was alarming.

What they had done was inexcusable, but it was not as though he was alone in being neglected; orphans and the like had similar childhoods to Harry, after all. Was it simply that Harry could _see_ what others had? That he compared the absence of _anything_ his _parents_ gave him to the affection showered upon Thomas? Was it because they turned him into something less than human; even if he knew that he was also something _more_? Because this led to the absence of… happiness that everyone else appeared entitled to?

Did it matter what caused it? Probably not; Harry was aware of the fact that the hatred would not fade; as his instincts grew more violent, and they certainly were developing in this fashion, it grew more… explosive. He did not realise what he had done to his father until the man's teeth were in his flesh, after all.

Hm. That could potentially cause a problem with his inheritance. Supposedly, attacking the head of a household was criteria to remove you from the line of succession.

No wait. It wasn't possible for him to be removed now that he and the other applicable candidate had duelled for the right. Harry was immune to such changes after James allowed Thomas' duel to take place.

So nothing bad would happen, unless you counted the gossip that would be raging through the castle after that show was witnessed by so many. Harry did not count that, and it would not have any significant impact on him since the few people he cared about would know why he had socked James in the jaw; though he was unsure whether his betrothed was aware. Perhaps she would ask him.

Harry's thought stopped as he reached a deep enough clearing for his purpose.

The human dropped to his knees with a wolfish snarl, and let go of his humanity as his body _burned_; his instincts screaming to be set free. His last thought, before he followed the simple mind of his beastly half, was of disappointment in himself; it had been a long time since he needed to break free so badly.

-()-()-()—

Back in the civilised world, Fleur Delacour watched on with shock as her fiance vanished into the woods. Daphne, still stood next to her, was keeping the rest of Harry's audience from approaching the doorway without effort as the wand she was clutching spat vicious red sparks onto the stone floor beneath the pair of girls. Neither spoke in the seconds before Daphne twisted her upper body; glared at the family at the top of the stairs, and ran out into the dark after her friend.

Fleur watched her fellow blonde run off with confusion. Not directed at Daphne, necessarily, but at the boy she was following.

What had that been about? Why had he been so... uncomposed?

Even in the bank, Fleur thought that Harry had shown remarkable self-restraint. That her _fiance_ had been in full possession of his faculties even when he dented the table and yelled at his family. Much as he had shown anger, Harry had not acted out in any of the ways that males typically would. He had not tried to... puff himself up; had not tried to seem more intimidating than normal unless you counted the volume of his voice... rising. But now? Harry looked less composed than anybody Fleur had ever seen sans the red haired boy that screamed at her in an effort to court the Veela.

Was his relationship with his parents that terrible?

The fact that he had punched his father in the face suggested that it was, but that baffled Fleur. Not because she was unaware of the fact that Harry was neglected as a child; everyone who passed through the halls of Hogwarts heard that story. There was a debate as to whether the ghost professor; Bins, Fleur believed was his name, would be able to recite the tale with the same monotonous tone as his goblin rebellions and most people reached the conclusion that even he would have heard the story enough times that there would be no difficulty.

No; Fleur simply had not registered how horrid his childhood must have been to lead to his fleeing the house he grew up in. She was not alone; it was very unlikely that anybody who knew Harry could relate, since the nature of his youth was unimaginable for those in Hogwarts, or the other schools, that had even semi-decent childhoods.

As two more girls rushed past her, calling not for Harry but for Daphne, Fleur had a feeling that there was something more about this situation that she did not yet know. Just a hunch.

"_Caroline_," Fleur stopped the girl from following Jasmine and Tracy as she addressed the shorter girl in her native tongue. "_What's going on_?"

"_We're going after Daphne_," Caroline answered, as she brushed Fleur off and carried on her way.

"_But why_," Fleur asked, as she accompanied her English friend. "_Why would you be going after _her_, when Harry is the one that clearly needs your help? Shouldn't we let a teacher know that he has gone into the forest? Is it not dangerous? I thought that was why it is forbidden._" The French girl asked, with confusion lacing her tone as the two girls ahead of them attracted Daphne's attention, and where dismissed a moment later; the girl paid no heed to her followers as she skirted through the pumpkin patch; following the groove that Harry had created as he tore through the vegetation.

"_That's why we're trying to stop Daphne before she goes in after Harry. There's no chance of a teacher convincing her to come back to the castle._" Caroline responded, absentmindedly, as the two caught up with Tracy and Jasmine as they hesitated at a patch of thorns.

"_But it's _Harry_that is inside the forest!_"

"What's she saying?" Tracy asked Caroline, as she pulled her dress free from the bush with a _ripping_ sound that she seemed wholly unconcerned about.

"She's asking why we're going after Daphne instead of Harry, since he's the one inside the forest," Was Caroline's response, with a hint of amusement, despite the situation, as she told Tracy. "Or, more specifically, why we don't tell a teacher that Harry's gone into the forest."

"Firstly," Tracy began; addressing the French girl. "Harry would get into trouble, if the looks Bumblemore has been shooting him over the past few weeks are anything to go by, if we told on him. Secondly, _Harry_ will be fine; it's Daphne that could be in danger if we let her go into that blasted place."

"What do you mean? 'Ow will 'Arry be fine?!" Fleur asked, or demanded, as she grew steadily more annoyed about this piece of information she was lacking.

"Have you not been paying attention to what your younger classmates have been spewing left right and centre since Harry saved them? He's the strongest Wizard, or anything for that matter, you'll ever meet." Tracy said, with pride, before correcting herself. "Well, the most powerful for his age; since his core is still growing Bumblemore and Moldyshorts would give Harry a run for his money. Not many others, though. Look at that Dark guy he battered at your school."

"Non; zose are rumours. Only rumours." Fleur shook her head. "'E iz too young to be an animagus." She denied.

"His _father_ and his gang of pranksters became animaguses at school. _Believe me_ when I say that Harry could do anything they could do better than them." Tracy said, sternly.

"Non. I do not-"

"Daphne! STOP!" Tracy yelled to the girl ahead, as her fellow Slytherin neared the forest. "Stop! St- Oh, fuck it," Tracy swore, a rare occurrence, and raised her wand. "_Incarcerous_!" The ropes shot towards, and wrapped around, Daphne, and the girl fell with a scream of shock. "You forced me to do that!" Tracy called, as she ran to the floored girl.

Fleur ignored the pair, as she jogged to the treeline and picked a piece of cloth up. A piece of cloth who's origin she soon deduced.

"_Une_ _Chemise_?" She murmured, as she ran her fingers over the discarded dress shirt. The Delacour girl frowned, and addressed a question to Jasmine, who happened to be the nearest of the girls. "Why iz 'Arry's shirt 'ere?" She asked; her tone one of confusion.

Jasmine didn't respond to the French girl's question and, instead, turned to the other three.

"We should go back inside. Harry won't be happy if he finds out we followed him like this." She said, logically. There was no reason to worsen Harry's mood.

"Fucking… Bitch… Slag…" Daphne muttered, as she tried to manoeuvre her arm to draw her wand and free herself.

"Oh, hush!" Tracy exclaimed, as she dropped to a knee next to her best friend and pulled the wand from the holster on her wrist. "You aren't going in after Harry, just _try_ to keep a cool head. It's what you're known for, after all!" She berated the restrained girl. "As much as I want to help Harry, too, there's nothing we can do for him at this point except to wait for him to calm down! You aren't helping anyone by being so stupid!"

"Shut the fuck u-mff!" Tracy conjoured a gag, and raised her wand again.

"_Locomotor Daphne!_" The tied up girl floated into the air and followed, unwillingly, after Tracy as she began to walk towards the castle again.

"Leave that here," Jasmine pointed at the shirt in Fleur's grip. "Harry'll need it when he comes back to the castle.

"And… 'ow long will zat be?" Fleur asked, with confusion. She only had the vaguest idea of what just happened, but had a feeling that she wasn't going to have the event explained to her just yet. It would be best to ask Harry when he _returned_ to the dance.

"I don't know," The girl shrugged. "Anywhere from a half hour to half a day, based on past experience."

-()-()-()—

Fortunately, it was not too long before Harry chose to return, fully dressed after retrieving all of his clothes, to the dance. He was barely dishevelled as he walked through the door, and glanced around the hall; most people did not notice his return and the few that did, did not care. It was plain as day why so few people cared currently, as the nearest boy; no older than 15, swayed from side to side with a cup of spiked punch in his hand. Whatever they used to contaminate the drink was plainly strong; Harry couldn't smell anything else due to the overwhelming stench of the alcohol.

It was a surprise to see the position his date was in at the moment; dancing with a Durmstrang boy with a merry smile on her face, as one of her friends was being even more... friendly with another from the Scandinavian school. Well, that excused Harry from dancing with the girl any more and, so, the animagus was indifferent to the fact that the girl had found somebody more compatible. He supposed, as the boy kissed his 'date' that there would be rumours about this; people would believe him to be cuckolded, most likely, but he could not care less what the sheep of this school believed about him. Something of this nature would only irritate him if the girl mattered to him, and Harry only cared about a _very_ select number of the fairer sex.

Harry moved his gaze over the crowd; searching for the red hair of the culprits, and quickly found the Weasley twins leant against each other, laughing hysterically as they stared at Ron, who was following Harry's fiancé like a lost, lonely puppy. As Fleur's expression turned murderous at something the boy said, and her hand went to draw her wand, Harry decided that he ought to intervene. Not because he particularly wished to keep the youngest Weasley brother alive, but because it would be a shame for Fleur to be sent to Azkaban for assault on a minor before the competition concluded.

He also had another motive; beyond concern for the red haired boy being attacked by the Veela; Fleur would be the most likely to know where the girls were at the moment; none of his friends were in the Great Hall, and Fleur's scent had been on the outskirts of the forest as well. Maybe they had told her why they weren't returning to the Ball.

Harry crossed the room quickly; weaving through the crowd, and drew next to the French Witch.

"May I have this dance?" Harry asked, with a, hopefully, charming smile. The girl returned it; pushing her annoyance out of her mind with one more glare at the red haired subject of her ire.

"No!" Harry turned, with surprise, as Ron Weasley yelled this, in a stern tone. "She w-as was going to d-daance withhh mee!" He slurred, as he squared up to Harry; or attempted to, anyway.

"Bugger off, kid." Harry shoved the boy away, and Ronald fell onto his backside. "Oi! Next time, only get the people who can handle booze drunk!" Harry called to the twins, as their guffaws grew softer. It was clear that the two were unsure whether they should be annoyed that Ron had been shoved, or if the act was amusing. Before they could decide, Harry walked away, and the two decided they didn't really care about their brother's bruised, bloated ego as another drunk attracted their attention. Understandable, since the new source of amusement was an adult.

"Shall we?" Harry asked, and held out his arm to the beautiful, amused blonde.


	18. The Third Task

**Okay; here's another chapter of Feral. I hope you will enjoy it.**

**Please let me know if you do through Follows/Favourites/Reviews.**

**There's a small time-skip this chapter, from the Yule Ball to the third task, which is another non-Canon challenge.**

**-()-()-()-**

As Fleur Delacour fastened her dragonhide vest, preparing for the third task, she remembered the end of the Ball with a smile; picturing the annoying Red-head's face as she and Harry walked onto the dancefloor and, at the same time, the tipsy Charms professor beginning to sing, in a slurred voice, a song about fruit. Oranges and Lemons, specifically. When she asked Harry, he had not heard of the folk song either, but her attention was quickly drawn away from the drunk half-goblin as a slow song began.

_Fleur was rather tall, for a girl. That was something she tended to dislike; not because she was insecure, it did nothing to affect her self-image, just because it meant that men were able to catch sight of her even earlier. Unfortunately,she could not change her height any more than she could remove the Veela curse that was commonly known as their Allure._

_Thankfully, Harry was taller. Fleur had heard, from her mother, tales of dancing with a man that came up to her bosom, and that he had buried his face in her cleavage and had the nerve to yell at _her_ for _bewitching_ him with her Allure. Fleur did not have the self-restraint of Apolline Delacour; she had no doubt that any boy that dared act like that with her would find himself the recipient of... fire. Now that she thought about it, the, as the English said, knobhead she had originally agreed to accompany would likely have done this, if not something worse; he had displayed his closet-pervert earlier in the night. Harry, on the other hand, did not even allow his hands to move from her lower back and hip through the course of the song._

_This, along with the fluid movements of her partner, made the dance _enjoyable_ for the girl; it was enjoyable for her to be in the arms of a male, and that was an experience she had never had before. She found herself relaxing in his arms as the second song began, and was, for once, unaware of the fact that a large portion of those in the room directed their attention to the couple as they swayed, from side to side, in the centre of the room._

_Fleur, by the end of the song, was pressed against her fiance; her hands on his upper back. She could not help but notice the black haired teen's build, as the toned muscles moved beneath his dress robes, and that made it more... pleasurable to be held in his arms as the song ended and she made herself pull away, smiling up at Harry who, after a moment, responded in kind. Then, however, Fleur's attention was force-ably taken away from her partner. A boy, grinning in a goofy fashion, laid his hand on her shoulder and pulled her away from Harry, attempting to have the next dance, but losing all of his manners from the Allure the Veela had unknowingly been radiating._

"Get off me!_" Fleur slapped him, yelling in French, as the Hufflepuff's fingers dug into her shoulder. The boy was not shaken out of the daze, and dragged her away from the befuddled Potter. "'Ey!" She smacked the boy again, as people's attention was drawn to the commotion._

"_Oi!" Harry snapped out of it, and stepped forwards, grabbing the boy by the front of his robes. "What do you think you're doing, Cedric?" He hissed, with venom._

"_Get off me." Cedric repeated the sentiment Fleur had expressed minutes before. He brought his elbow up, and caught Harry's jaw; snapping his head to the side. The taller, if only by a tad, teen growled, and brought his head forwards. His forehead met Cedric's nose, he shoved the boy forwards, and the Hufflepuff fell to the floor. This _did_ snap him out of it._

"_What the hell?" He asked, as he looked at the teen looming over him with his lips pulled back in a silent snarl. "Shit!" Cedric Diggory exclaimed, remembering what had just happened. "Cho, wait!" He leapt to his feet, and rushed out of the hall in pursuit of his date; she had not been happy with his interest in the other girl. Fleur watched Harry, watch him go with a scowl, and took his hand again, pulling him back to the situation at hand._

"_Anozzer dance?" She requested, and Harry accepted. "I am zorry." She said, as they began to move to the music again._

"_Sorry? What for?" Harry asked, with a confused frown._

"_For ruining our dance." Fleur shook her blonde head. "I should 'ave kept a better 'old on my allure."_

"_It's not your fault," Harry corrected. "_I _am sorry, on behalf of my gender for their lack of self control." The teen grinned, and Fleur laughed lightly; a sound that made Harry blink confusedly for reasons unknown to the Beauxbatons' student._

"_Zank you," She said. "You zeem better now." She commented. Harry had regained his composure after the earlier confrontation._

"_I guess," The male nodded. "Sorry that you had to see that." He apologised. "I hope you don't think any less of me because of it."_

"_Of courze not," She reassured her _fiance_."I cannot eemagine having such an 'orrid relationship wiz my family."_

"_That's good to hear." Harry smiled, and the two's conversation faded away as they focused on the dance once again. Fleur noted the discomfort in Harry as the song changed; a faster pace taking its place. She relented as Harry simply stood there awkwardly, and the two left the dance floor._

The silver-blonde girl readied her wand; polished only the night before. Having it in a holster would be a hindrance to her in the upcoming task, and she would need every advantage she could get in these upcoming hours. She was concerned, however, about going up against Harry; last time, she had been alright with the... cheapshot at the beginning of the footrace. She had stood no chance otherwise and, frankly, she'd had no particular guilt about attacking him in a _game_. Plus, she was not close to Harry at that point; he was little more than a stranger. Now, though, she... _was_. Since the Ball, they had been talking, and spending time together, far more than before, and she disliked the thought of fighting him _fairly_, let alone backstabbing him again. Hopefully Harry felt the same, else he'd have yet another advantage in the task to come.

-()-()-()-

Harry walked onto the hard, dirt ground of the colosseum-like arena with a frown as the crowd cheered as the other three entered through their own doorways an equal distance around the circumference of the circular stadium.

In front of Harry, there was a cluster of boulders, serving as cover, and a single, low rock wall. As he reached the largest of the rocks, and peered around to check for any immediate opportunities against the other champions. None were obvious, and so he ducked back into cover as Ludo Bagman began to commentate; his voice ringing across the floor to reach the crowd opposite him and the teachers. Harry vaguely noted that they were midway between him and Viktor; a quarter of the circle along from Harry clockwise, as was indicated by the crest sat atop that entrance. Opposite Harry, there was a Hogwarts crest that had a roaring Lion beneath it and, to his right, was Fleur's school's crest. Above his head, imprinted in the wall, there was a Hogwarts shield that had a snake coiled around it.

"Ladies and Gentlemen; Boys and Girls! Today is the day of the Third Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament! As you know, today's task has been kept a mystery from the competitors; only being given the advice to brush up on their spell-work, so, without further ado, let us see how our Champions measure up to each other! The only rule is not to use intentionally fatal spells!" He announced, with cheer in his tone. "Other than that it is a matter of who is the last man, or woman, standing! BEGIN!"

If he was expecting the Champions to leap out and begin hurling spells at each other, the ex-Beater was mistaken. Instead, all four, shocking in the case of one of them, bided their time behind cover.

Harry did not know what the other four were doing at the time to prepare, but he began casting on the ground below his feet; blasting chunks of dirt out, casting levitation charms on them, and beginning transfiguration.

One, he shaped into a vaguely-humanoid creature consisting of stone; not massively useful in a fight, but an excellent distraction as it would draw fire upon being seen from the corner of one's eye. Next, he created a flock of pigeons that, in formation, flew over to Thomas and rested on the rocks providing cover. This was a cruel tactic, but Harry was unconcerned about the morality.

A lightweight, circular shield was next, and it sat on Harry's arm to provide a more flexible method of cover; not as useful as a stronger magical shield, or a genuine duelling shield, but it did not require concentration, and duelling shields were forbidden in this task.

Then, Harry heard a girlish scream and turned his attention to the origin. Thomas had discovered Harry's present, and the boy's subsequent scream let his older brother know it was not appreciated. He ran out from behind cover, waving his arms, with bird-faeces splattered across his clothes, and Harry took aim.

"Stupefy." He said, with a smirk. The red light shot at Thomas, and the brown haired boy leapt out of the way; stumbling and tripping to avoid the stunning spell and falling to the floor. The next spell; this one meant to yank him into the air to provide a better target, splashed against the ground as Thomas rolled out of the way. Harry was unable to send another his way as he jerked back; dodging the blue spell that came his way from Viktor.

The Hogwarts teen flicked his wand at the ground outside of his cover, and a Labrador sprang from it; charging at Viktor's location and providing adequate protection for Harry as he briefly stepped out into the open, his shield raised, shot a D_epulso_ at Krum, throwing Viktor into a wall with the banishing charm, and hopped back behind the rock in time to avoid the incoming spell from Thomas as he scrambled back to his feet. He returned fire with a _Reducto_, and heard a cry of pain as his spell connected with the Fourth year's leg and broke the bone.

"_Rictusempra_!" Harry barked, and the spell connected with his _brother._ Thomas fell to the floor, laughing hysterically. A great distraction for him, as the other two Champions looked out to investigate as the youngest of them crawled back into his section; hiding behind the wall as the tickling charm caused tears to run down his face from the giggles.

Eventually, the boy must have managed to cast the counter spell, as his snorts of laughter ceased. Harry remained behind cover as he watched Fleur peer around her own boulder, and shoot a purple curse at Viktor; it missed, as the Romanian ducked away, and the wall blackened around the impact-point.

Harry backed away, and moved the small golem in front of him. With a banishing charm, the figure flew across the arena, as Krum stepped out of cover, and became the target of his stunner. It hit the moving target, showing his skills as a duellist, but did nothing to the inanimate object and was an unfortunate move as Harry capitalized and an _Expelliarmus _caught Krum; knocking him back and sending the wand out into the open area of the arena. Even from his position, Harry heard the Bulgarian swear in his native tongue, and chuckled at the conundrum facing his competition. Would Krum risk being hit in order to retrieve his wand?

"_Episkey!" _Harry heard a boy yell, from across the arena, as Thomas cast the healing charm on his broken leg.

"_Expulso_!" Harry returned the call, shot the curse at the boulder, and the cover exploded .

"Ah!" Thomas yelled, as some of the fragments caught him, and knocked his legs out from under him. The boy fell to the floor, and Harry jabbed his wand at the rubble. The largest piece of rubble seemed to turn into a gorilla, and Thomas screamed bloody murder; scrambling to his feet and running. Then, the illusion faded away and the Fourth Year was left running away from nothing.

"_Impedimenta._" Harry said, and the boy fell to the ground, landing face first and crying out in pain. "_Stupefy!_" The red jet of light hit the boy, and he was knocked unconscious. Then, Harry darted back into his cover and waited for one of the two remaining champions to male a move. As he stood patiently still, the remaining Hogwarts Champion listened to the commentary that was ongoing; having ignored it up until now.

"Oh! And Thomas Potter is out of the task; that looked painful!" He commented, needlessly. "Three left, and it looks as though Miss Delacour will be getting her hands dirty!" He exclaimed; pointing out that Fleur had been the most cautious so far through the contest. Only the one spell had been cast by the French girl; granted it seemed to be a serious spell, even if Harry did not recognise it, but only once had she really stepped into the fray.

Harry peaked around to watch as Fleur stepped out and, mouthing something or other, began a complicated series of wand-movements. She was fortunate that Viktor was ignoring Bagman, else he may well have taken advantage of the opportunity as she was so focussed on her spell-work. She was also fortunate that Harry, upon realising this opportunity, simply stared at his wand and frowned. It made him feel... bad to think about cursing her, even if he justified it as payback for the last challenge. Then, they were basically two strangers that had been forced together through the events at the World Cup, and then by the contract their grandparents had signed. Now, they were... something else, he guessed. Friends, maybe?

That meant that Harry decided against casting at his _fiance_ at this point in time, and turned his attention to the Durmstrang section of the arena to wait for Krum, and his chance to remove him from this task.

This meant that he was watching as Fleur's complex charm began to take place, and the rock Viktor was sheltered behind, along with all of the other cover in his section, was suddenly alight with blue flames that shot dozens of green sparks into the air, hinting at the actual nature of the magic. Krum, with an exclamation, stumbled out of the cover; his arms over his face as he tried to avoid burns. Fleur did not have the ability to capitalise, as she tried to regain her breath from the large expulsion of magic, and her wand-arm shook too much to aim over the significant distance. This meant the red stunner the Veela shot at him missed by several feet, and only accomplished drawing Krum's attention away from the illusion-fire.

The Bulgarian teen, in a sprint, made an attempt to retrieve his wand. Krum made it more than half way; Fleur's spells missing him by a significant margin, before Harry decided to intervene. Much as he'd benefit from letting Krum take out Fleur before he dealt with the Durmstrang boy, Harry was not fond of the idea of seeing her defeated, and decided to risk whatever happened next. He stepped out of cover with his wand raised.

With a wave of his wand, a bundle of rope shot towards Krum, in the Bulgarian teen's path, and wrapped around his legs. The Quiddich player fell, with an exclamation, and the crowd behind Harry cheered as one of the favourites was taken out of the Task. Harry followed up with a stunner, and Krum was rendered unconscious.

"And half of our Champions are done; this match-up has become solely between Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour. And what a surprise it is to see Viktor Krum, the favourite in this Challenge, taken out so soon!" Fleur and Harry were both out of their cover at the moment, and Ludo Bagman commented on the fact. "Now, how will this situation be resolved? From what I hear, neither of these two will be happy to fight!"

"Got that right," Harry murmured, as he faced Fleur. He half-heartedly raised his wand, and tried to find his resolve to fight the girl he was beginning to care for. "Well," He murmured to himself. "As long as I don't _hurt_ her, there's nothing unforgivable about duelling head on." Fleur seemed to reach a similar conclusion, as she raised her wand and prepared to cast; taking careful aim at her fiancé as Harry's emerald eyes locked onto hers. It felt wrong, to Harry, as he began to attack the girl.

"Stupefy!" He called, as she sent an orange light in return. Harry leant to one side, and the jet of light sailed past him; her aim was remarkable, and Harry's eyebrows raised at the close-call. Fleur, meanwhile, cast a _protego_ charm, and the stunner splashed against it. Harry turned his wand on the ground, and began to blast chunks out of the earth, and smash them to dust, to create a make-shift cloud. Next, he flicked his wrist and a large gust of wind swept up the dirt and provided cover as he tapped his wand on his own head and became dissillusioned. He raised the shield still sat on his arm, also camouflaged, and began to follow the cloud's path in a half-crouch. Two stunners bounced off the muggle-shield, before Fleur remembered it, and cast a disarming spell that tore it from Harry's grasp. The black haired teen took aim at the spot the disarming spell had come from, and his own red jet of light connected with Fleur and the veela-core wand sailed through the air and into Harry's waiting palm.

With another wave of his wand, Harry dispelled the cloud and the crowd was shown him, coated in the dirt, as he allowed the dissillusionment charm fade away.

The teen waited for Bagman to announce his victory, and frowned when this did not occur.

"Really?" Bagman asked of someone in the crowd behind him. "Why's that?" He continued. "Oh, right. Okay, Miss Delacour must either submit or be unable to continue for this task to end," Bagman stated. "According to the Rules set by Director Crouch." He did not seem thrilled by the rule, as it was clear that Harry had come out on top in this task. Not that the ex-beater was thrilled that Harry had won; he would favour the younger Potter, after all.

"Well?" Harry asked, as he neared the girl. He watched Fleur consider her next move; looking at the wand held in his left hand and debating whether or not she could disarm Harry. Not one to give up without a fight, Fleur made an attempt, and lunged at Harry; trying to grab his arm only to be foiled as Harry caught her, his left arm wrapping around her shoulders as he turned her around, and placed the tip of his own wand against her throat. "Please give up," He requested. "I'd rather not stun you."

"Oui." Fleur relented. "I zurrender." She said, with an annoyed frown.

"Thanks," Harry sighed, and promptly stepped away from the attractive girl, who he had been acutely aware of being pressed up against him. "Here you go." He offered the wand to her, butt first, and Fleur took it with a forced smile of gratitude.

"Merci," She nodded, as Bagman announced that Harry, once again, was the victor.

"And do not forget, Ladies and Gentlemen, that the fourth task will take place a week tomorrow!" The Quiddich commentator reminded those present that they'd have to attend, and the two conscious champions that they would need to perfect their chosen spells to survive under water and retrieve what was taken from them. Fleur glanced at Harry, and would have thanked him yet again for telling her how to hear the clue had they not been stood in front of all of the officials of the tournament. Yet another thing that promised a future relationship, of some sort, for the two.

It was also a reminder, for Fleur, that Gabrielle and her parents would be attending the lake-based task. She was looking forward to seeing her family again.


	19. Between the Third and Fourth

**Here's another chapter of Feral. I don't have a whole lot to say here that's important to the story, but I'd like to briefly address those that are criticising the story once again. If you dislike my story, that's fine; I'm not writing it for you, obviously. If you do enjoy my story, I'm sorry for continually bringing the criticism up. From now on, I'll address it through replies, only, when I feel that the complaints justify a response. If I don't respond and you think that your point is justified, I've most likely addressed it before; likely in the long ass reply I posted on my reviews page a few chapter back. I don't really want to repeat that, so sorry.**

**This isn't an overly eventful factor, but it sets up some future events and has some insight into the minds and characters of the girls as well as of Harry's odd sense of logic. Oh, and I also use a cliché briefly, but there's very little emphasis on it; it serves a purpose, and I feel like it's kind of necessary. Sorry if it bothers anyone, but I _do_ try to avoid relying on the plot-lines I've read over and over.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter, and let me know through Reviews, Follows and favourites.**

**Oh, and one more thing; I'm going to go back and edit some of my earlier chapters as time progresses, in case you notice they have changed somewhat. I reckon I can improve the quality, so... I will. Only Chapter 1 has been edited as of yet.**

**-()()()-**

As Harry stared into the panicked, softly glowing eyes of his reflection, his hands clenched around the basin over which he was leaning. The porcelain cracked in his grip, as Harry's arms shook; weary as the rest of him. His breathing clouded up the mirror, as his chest rose and fell, and he focused the entirety of his being on the runes illuminating his bedroom. They, slowly, began to fade, and were hidden once more by his ever-present glamour charm; anchored to the only visible rune that sat in the centre of his chest.

His eyes flicked to the reflection of his bed; the sheets messy and torn from the wild movements of his nightmare-plagued body minutes before, as he relived parts of his childhood. _That_ was something he had not experienced for months, and this had been worse than any he could recall.

It felt so _real_.

As he fled from the monster following him, Harry could _feel_ the thing's energy following him; no matter how fast his child-form ran. It was going to catch him, and he was helpless to defend himself. There was no way that Harry could fight off _that_. He was going to die! He would die, and then...

"_No!_" Harry hissed, and the word was punctuated by a _crack_ as his forehead met the mirror in front of him and blood splashed down the wall. Not a lot, but enough to pull the teen's attention away from the images inside his head to address the sudden flash of pain. The shine of his emerald eyes faded, as he stalked over to his night-stand, and picked up his wand. With a wave of the stick, the wound on his forehead closed and Harry ran his hand through messy hair; uncaring of the blood he spread through black locks as he ran another finger over his left pectoral; frustrated at the sting of that particular rune and, more importantly, what it _meant_ for him. From there, he glanced at his right wrist, where another rune was causing trouble, though this one was no more than an itch. The encircled star on the underside of his forearm was bothering him quite a bit, and Harry had a good idea _why_, since a similar sensation came from the same place on his left arm; on which a circle, inside a triangle and dissected by a single, vertical line was imprinted.

He had rings, of course, as every head of House did, but Harry didn't like jewellery and, so, would only wear those in the most exigent of circumstances. It was an old custom, to get a tattoo of one's family crest, but Harry figured that a few more would make no difference to him, and he was entitled to keep them hidden for the majority of the time if he so wished. Even so, he was the head of two; no doubt he needed to do something about that.

The Goblins would surely know, and Harry wasn't going to get back to sleep tonight. He might as well go to Gringotts, and find out why this was bugging him.

He did not realise how long a wait he would have turning up at this time of night. Ragnok and Gnarclaw were nice and cosy, asleep in their Goblin beds, after all.

-()()()-

He was still waiting, in fact, the next morning while Daphne and Tracy woke from their slumber. Was sat, bored, in a waiting room as they rose from their beds, and took to pacing back and forth as they left the common room in search of their two friends that weren't going to sleep to noon, as they assumed would be the case with Harry.

They found Caroline and Jasmine in the Great Hall, where they were talking to Fleur Delacour. Daphne bristled at the sight, and Tray was forced to drag her reluctant best friend over to the Ravenclaw table, while whispering in her ear.

"I know you don't like her," Tracy began. "But Harry and her are starting to form a friendship; we need to at least _try_ to get on with her, or you'll put him in an awkward position."

"_No_." Daphne hissed. "She's a self-important bitch! I won't pretend that she's anything different because Harry happens to have been forced to be around her!" The blonde girl whisper-shouted at her best friend, and snatched her hand away from the darker-haired Slytherin. Tracy looked at her with an expression of shock, that quickly turned into a frown.

"Stop being _selfish_!" Tracy returned, in the same tone. "I _get_ that you're upset about this whole... effing ordeal; I am as well. I bet that Caroline and Jaz feel the same way, but we aren't bitching about it because it doesn't matter what _we_ think about it! What matters is that we're _losing_ our best friend!"

"_What_?!" Daphne asked. "_What _are you talking about?!"

"Harry!" Tracy snarled at her friend. "You must have _noticed_! When I danced with him at the ball was the first time I'd spoken to him in _weeks_; all because we've been pulling away from him because of petty _jealousy_!"

"I haven't-" Daphne began, but was cut off.

"You _have_!" Tracy berated. "We _all_ have! If we're going to save our friendships with Harry, let alone pursue anything _more_, we have to _apologise_!" By this time, the two were becoming heated, and silently agreed that they needed to have this out before they could eat breakfast; they had learned to communicate even while having an attention-consuming conversation after all the years of being best friends. They quickly left the hall, and were ducking down a corridor as Daphne spoke again.

"Why should it be _my_ duty to apologise?! Harry's been avoiding me as much as I have him! Just because I'm the girl, I'm meant to be all sentimental and chase after him?!" She yelled, at her friend. Tracy's eyes narrowed, and her tone dripped venom as she spoke again; an odd tone for the girl to have.

"You, of _all_ people should know by now that Harry doesn't _get_ that!" Tracy yelled right back. "He's a social retard!" She summarised, in simple, and unkind, terms. "How in Merlin's name can you expect him to get _why_ we've been avoiding him?! Hell, he hasn't even talked to us about how he _feels_ about the fucking wedding he's being forced into! You can bet that if he hasn't spoken to us, he hasn't spoken to anybody!" Daphne blinked, shocked, but did not have a chance to respond. Tracy was on a roll. "He probably hasn't even _thought _about it! You know how little he cares about marriage; no way he's considered how much it's going to _fuck up_ his life to marry some bimbo he doesn't even know!" She continued. "And it's not like Harry'll take comfort in her being a _veela_; firstly, he isn't affected by their bloody aura, and secondly I don't think he's ever actually had _the talk_!"

"I'm not-"

"And don't even start with your Feminazi-bullshit!" Daphne was rarely sexist towards Harry, but she _had_ made up her mind on the male gender as a whole, and tarred them all with the same brush. That was the origin behind her being unhappy that, as a female, she was expected to apologise; as though that would ever be the reason. "Harry's _never_ been sexist towards you, or _anyone_! Whereas the female gender seems to have unanimously decided to _screw him over_! Not only have we abandoned him; his effing Fiance went to the bloody Ball with another guy, and Harry's date started snogging some other guy right in the middle of the Hall!" Tracy, by this point, was not angry with Daphne, as much as with everyone and everything concerning her recent attitude towards her best, male, friend. She, and the other two, was _convinced_ that Harry was hurting, and keeping it bottled up inside. "You know what?! I'm going to go apologise to Harry; if you want to come, fine! If you don't; well, fuck you!"

Tracy stormed off, heatedly, and did not stop as she strode purposefully past Jasmine, Caroline and Fleur, who had followed them out of the Hall after seeing the tension between Daphne and Tracy. It was fortunate that they had chosen to do so, as they had managed to erect a hasty sound-ward that kept their argument from being heard by the rest of the school. As they quickly followed, both Jasmine and Caroline had frowns on their faces.

Much as she agreed with Tracy, in that they had been neglecting Harry as of late, Jasmine found it more impactful to have the words said aloud, than to think the sentiment to herself. She was also aware of the fact that she had never thought of it from Harry's point of view; the girl had had a worse childhood than most, but had not been changed by her situation. She had never _needed_ to change. As much as she knew Harry had demons, she had always viewed them as... quirks, more than anything else. She was suddenly re-evaluating their significance, as the rushed down the corridor to the Slytherin Common Room in search of their missing friend.

Caroline, meanwhile, was running the last sentence of Tracy's rant over in her head; realising that she was likely correct. Andrew Greengrass was an amazing father, but she could not picture him sitting Harry down, and trying to explain the Birds and the Bees. Nor would it occur to Harry to seek out the conversation. She tried to think of an alternate option, as she hurried to catch up with the taller girls; her legs being far shorter than those of her friends resulted in her steps covering less ground. She debated the pros and cons of making Harry talk to various teachers on the topic, but quickly reached the conclusion that none were acceptable teachers. Snape or Flitwick would be unbearably awkward, while Hagrid would just be... she didn't even know what to call it, but the half-giant was out. She did not trust Dumbledore, and Karkaroff was a piece of slime that belonged on Snape's hair. Moody... just _no_. As for the female teachers, even Pomphrey, Caroline was unhappy with the thought of them discussing sex with Harry. That could not end well.

Daphne caught up with the foursome just as they were about to cross the threshold into the Slytherin Common Room.

-()-()-()-

"Bullshit." Harry said, with a small smirk, as he stared into the vault. "You're pulling my leg." He guessed, speaking to Gnarclaw who stood to his right.

"I assure you, Lord Peverell," The Goblin frowned in response. "I am pulling no part of your body, and have no reason to lie to you in regards to this Vault and the contents belonging to you; as do the associated Vaults, businesses, and properties of your primary House."

"What do I have to do with all of it?" Harry asked; repulsed at the idea of having to live like one of the soft Purebloods that believed themselves the royalty of the magical world.

"You do not have to do anything; as head of the house you are free to use all or none of the treasures you have inherited." Gnarclaw responded, in a confused tone. To a Goblin, wealth was something that anyone in their right mind would celebrate, yet Harry seemed unhappy about his discovery.

"That's good," Harry sighed. "But I suppose I should check out the contents, right?" He asked of the Goblin.

"That would be advisable, yes." Gnarclaw waved the odd human inside, and Harry cautiously stepped through; eyeing the daunting tower of coins on one side of the room with trepidation as he stepped lightly. He did not want to perish in an avalanche of Galleons, thank you very much.

Harry walked into the vault, and ignored the significant wealth of his Lordship in favour of a far more interesting area of the massive vault; one that appealed to his rather violent tendencies. Lots, and lots of weapons sat in one corner of the Peverell vault, and Harry felt a grin spread over his face as he examined them. The teen ran a finger along the edge of one particularly beautiful knife, and brought his finger up to peer at the shallow cut that was the result. _Sharp._

Half an hour later, Harry exited the vault with a grin still prominent on his face, and a dufflebag in his hand. He gave some small thought to how Dumbledore would react to the small armoury he would be brining back with him, but shrugged the thought off. He had no intention of showing the old man anything he was going to bring from Gringotts. Well, he might loan the bearded man a sickle and three knuts if he asked nicely.

"Okay; that explains why the Peverell House was bugging me, but what about Lucifer?" He asked the small figure.

"Well..." Gnarclaw spoke in a _nervous_ tone. Harry was certain that a _nervous_ Goblin was a rare sight indeed, and found it amusing. "There _is_ another vault. One with _that_ symbol on its front, but we don't know _what_ is inside. The magic is... strange."

"Well, that sounds interesting." Harry responded.

And interesting it was.

-()-()-()-

"HARRY!" As he emerged from his room; having sneaked in through the window with his luggage handily shrunk by a rune, Harry had the wind knocked out of him by a blur of blonde hair. "I was worried you were hurt!" Astoria exclaimed, with concern.

"Why would you think that?" Harry asked; confused. It was not even 12, so the girls should not have missed him.

"After you weren't answering, Daphne and the others got all stressed out, had an argument, and then went really quiet and started glaring at each other... and everyone else." She shivered at some unknown thought, and continued. "I thought that you must've been hurt for them to react so badly." Astoria explained, and Harry's eyebrows raised.

"No, no I'm fine." Harry confirmed, in a confused tone, as he tried to think of why they would react so badly, if Astoria was to be believed. He couldn't think of a reason for the Fourth Year to lie, and so he took her at her word. "Why were they coming to my room in the first place?" He asked; they rarely bothered to come and wake him up at the weekend and, to the best of his recollection, had never done so before midday. Not since they discovered he was prone to snapping at them before then if he was woken needlessly.

"They didn't say," Astoria shrugged. "But all of them were here, so it must have been serious." She reasoned.

"Hmm," Harry agreed, with a nod. "I can't think of _why_, but I guess the only way to find out is to go and ask." He sighed; this didn't promise to be a nice conversation.

As Harry stepped onto the staircase that lead from the 6th year dorms to the common area, his thoughts were confirmed. He could almost _feel_ the tension coming from the tables at which Daphne, Tracy and Jasmine, and Fleur and Caroline were respectively sat. Not because they were dividing themselves, but because the tables at the side of the room could not comfortably sit five people. As Harry's eyes drifted across the rest of the room, he found a rather amusing sight. All of the males of his year, and Seventh, were squashed into the usually comfortable sitting area of four green couches forming a square; none willing to voice their discomfort, and move over to the remaining study tables, lest they inspire Daphne, and the others', though Harry was willing to bet that they feared the Greengrass heiress the most, ire. Alas, not all of the Slytherin students had this common sense, and Harry watched as one particularly dumb Fourth Year rose from his own place next to the fire; ignoring warnings from those around him, and sauntered over to Caroline and Fleur with a snobbish grin.

No doubt the Malfoy heir thought of the expression as _charming_, as he neared the Veela that was his target. Harry paused, on the stairs, to watch what would happen. He disliked the Malfoy boy, no matter how much he antagonised Thomas, and looked forwards to the coming event; as did Astoria, from her place next to Harry. The two were right to wait, as Draco opened his mouth to speak, and failed to get a single word out, before Fleur sent a sneer his way, and flicked her her wand; suddenly in her hand, at the blonde boy. Caroline had warned her that the Malfy heir was as bad as Thomas Potter, and Fleur was in no mood to put up with another arrogant Englishman; explaining the heavy book that _thudded_ into Draco's stomach, and sent him falling to the floor with an _ooph_.

"Piss off, Malfoy." Caroline summarised her friend's sentiment, and raised her own wand threateningly.

"How dare y-" Malfoy began, outraged, only to be interrupted.

"Just shut up and scamper back to your friends, or we'll set Harry on you." The girl threatened; skipping ahead to the end of the confrontation as she had no patience for the cocky boy's attitude.

"Y-You don't scare me!" He said, in a scared tone. "My father-"

"_Silencio_." Daphne hissed, from one table over. Malfoy's mouth continued to move for a moment, before he turned an expression of anger on the girl, and mouthed something at the girl. It was easy enough to read his lips, as this was one of the boys most-used phrases. "How dare I? Because you're a pathetic little wimp that's only threat is to _tell your daddy_, or to have your trolls of boyfriends beat on little girls. Come back when you develop _some measurable_ power." Daphne ordered, and pointed her wand between Draco's eyes. "_Fuck off_."

The boy, gulping as he stared at the glowing wand-tip, backed away slowly, before turning and walking, quickly, away from the five girls.

"Well, that was disappointing." Harry commented, as he descended the stairs. He had been hoping that Fleur would set Draco's product-filled hair on fire. "Ah, well. There's always next time the idiot gives it a try." Astoria nodded next to him, likewise let down by the absence of physical hurt on Draco's part. Harry's words brought the attention of Jasmine, sat at with Daphne and Tracy, to him, and the girl rose quickly; directing the others' attention to the teen as well.

"Harry," Jasmine began, flicking rainbow hair out of her eyes as she frowned at his reappearance. "Where have you been?" She asked, in an almost demanding tone.

"Um..." Harry hesitated, trying to think of a usable lie. He struggled, as they had obviously been staking out the entrance to his room, and eventually settled on telling the truth; stepping close to thegroup in order to avoid being overheard; his house-mates would sell him out in a moment, about his trip, if they thought they could gain from telling on him. "Gringotts." He said, simply.

He didn't know what they must have been expecting, but it evidently was not that, as each of the girls adopted an expression of surprise.

"Gringotts?" Caroline asked, recovering the first. "So... you weren't with Jane?" She asked.

"No... Why would I have been with her?" Harry asked, baffled.

"Well... we thought that you might have forgiven her for going with that Durmstrang boy, and that you might be... making up." Was the short girl's reply.

"Oh? Well, I have forgiven her, I suppose." Harry shrugged. "Doesn't mean I want to be around her, though." He continued.

"How could you have forgiven her?" This question was posed by Astoria, who was listening in. She did not understand Harry forgiving the girl so quickly after she cuckolded him. Surely he would be angry...

"Nothing to forgive," He shrugged. "I couldn't care less what she does, or who she does it with."

"Why did you go with her to the Yule Ball, then?"

"I needed a date, and she hinted quite heavily that she wanted me to ask." Harry replied, only for the younger girl to level a glare on him.

"And you couldn't think of anyone else that you could have asked?" Astoria asked.

"Not really..." Harry was missing something here. "Who could I have asked?"

"_Me_!" She exclaimed.

"Uh... Yeah, I probably could have, but why are you so upset?" He was confused.

"Because I didn't go! I didn't have a date, and so I was the only girl in my year that stayed in!"

"Oh..." Harry responded, eloquently. "That's good." He added, only to realise that was not the right response.

"_Good_?! How is it _good_?!"

"Well," Harry began, attempting to placate the girl. "If some guy had tried kissing _you_, I'd probably have broken his jaw." He theorised. "I didn't care about Jane being snogged, but you're a different matter."

"Why's that?" The girl asked, nearly satisfied but unwilling to let the subject go just yet. In the background, Daphne watched Harry be yelled at by her sister with a frown at the direction of this conversation.

"I'm protective?" He half-asked. He was protective of the girl who was the closest he had to a little sister.

"Hmph." Astoria seemingly accepted that answer, and sat down in the previously vacant chair on Caroline nd Fleur's table.

"Now that that's out of the way, why did you go to Gringotts?" Tracy interjected, bringing Harry's attention to her.

"Huh? Oh, I had to sort some things out for the houses I'm Head of." He summarised the process of checking over some small amount of paperwork, followed by going down to the vaults.

"..." None of the girls responded, as they all looked at him expectantly.

"What?" Harry asked at the expressions.

"Are you going to tell us what you were doing, or not?" Daphne asked, bluntly.

"Oh... uh, sure." Harry shrugged, before stepping over to another table and taking a chair. Once he brought it to the girls, and sat down in front of them, he began his explanation in a tired tone; the thought of recounting all of the useless information making him sleepy already.

-()()-

Later that day, Harry followed Fleur with a frown on his face. He could not think of a reason for him to be down here, greeting the Delacours, instead of sleeping some more. He was tired, and could feel himself becoming grouchy as time wore on. Hopefully, he would be able to stay polite through the conversation, but Harry was not exactly confident in his ability to maintain a civilised disposition through the coming minutes as they stopped in front of the Beauxbatons cabin.

How they had managed to hook it up to the English Floo system, Harry did not know, but it was an impressive feat of witchcraft, for sure. They must have been confident in the connection for the Delacour family to be travelling to Hogwarts by these means.

As he wandered into the Carriage, Harry vaguely noticed that it had been massively expanded, as he looked around the sitting room and quickly found the Fireplace in question. It was ornate, and the flames inside already burned brightly in anticipation for the French family's arrival. Fleur stood in front of it, and Harry could sense the girl's nervous excitement as she stared into the flames and awaited the arrival of her parents and sister. Unlike Fleur, who sported a barely-composed grin, Harry's brow sank into a frown as the flames turned green.

It was a fact he had always known, of course, but to see other people's attitude towards family always emphasised how strange his own life had been. He hated his family, after all, and could not imagine feeling love for them. Then again, Harry was uncertain of love itself, maybe it was normal to care, and strange to hate; an odd thought, to the animagus but one he had long harboured. As a small, shrieking blonde girl charged out of the fireplace, Harry's head tilted to the side in thought. If he had a sister, maybe he would have cared about her, even now. Then, the black haired teen dismissed the thought; there was no point hypothesising on his relationship with his family. Instead of dwelling on his own, he stepped forwards to greet the family that he was brought here to see, and plastered a grin across his face as Gabrielle spotted him.


	20. Fourth and Harry Speaks with the Judges

**Hello again, here is another chapter of Feral. Quite the intense chapter, too.**

**Okay, I imagine that some of you will not like this chapter, but through it, or the end part of it, I have ****_shown_****that Harry is not normal. That's been pretty damn clear throughout, but this is the first time we see his savagery come out in public, and his self restraint nearly snap out in the open, where he is unable to get himself away and into the woods where he can shed his humanity. It'll certainly have ramifications, of course, but what some people might think is the direction indicated ****_isn't_****. That's all I can say.**

**Oh, and this is not going to turn into a bashing story (I think that, since it is Harry's hate that we see, and is not always justified, that this doesn't count as a bashing story) but Harry's anger towards certain people will be an undertone for the foreseeable future, I'm afraid.**

**I hope that you like the chapter, or can forgive me if you do not, and that you are enjoying Feral. **

**-()()-()()-**

Harry felt something inside him, or would that be _things_, craving Ludo Bagman's blood as he stood on the pontoon in the middle of the black lake and, to show this fact, had a glare locked on the pot-bellied ex-beater. Not that the commentator noticed this fact, as he rambled on about the task. Harry had a good idea what the challenge was, ever since he listened to the clue underwater, but had not realised until _now_ that they were going to take _people_ to be that which the Champions would recover.

Harry's anger was so focused on the segment that contained teachers and officials that he, for once, ignored the looks he got from those watching; the looks that originated from the fact that he was without any clothing on his upper body. He even ignored the jealous, self conscious look from his _brother_ stood on the other side of Krum, a look that would ordinarily have inspired mirth in the emerald-eyed teen.

Next to him, Fleur had a somewhat similar reaction, though she was less likely to act on it, to Harry. She had noticed the absence of her sister, as Harry had, and was panicking over her ability to rescue Gabrielle. She was _not good_ in water. No Veela was, and so Fleur felt sick as she contemplated not being able to rescue her baby sister. The judges wouldn't _really_ leave her down there, would they?

Harry fumed, both because Gabrielle had been taken, and because they had kidnapped Astoria. He could not say for sure why they had chosen Astoria as the thing he would miss most in the world but, based on the anger it inspired, they had been pretty damn accurate in the assumption. Not that that was a good thing, as Harry desperately wanted to take the knife sat on his forearm in an ornate holder and throw it at one of the judges. What was wrong with them? That they would send two girls that had no connection to the contest other than that the champions cared about them down into the depths of the Black lake? Some of the creatures down there were bloody dangerous.

Harry glanced down at the pair of matching holsters strapped to each forearm, in a moment of forced calm. The two were fancier than Harry would generally choose; he tended to prefer functionality over looks, after al, but they served the purpose as well as he could hope. They were locked onto his arms, and could not be used by someone that was not a recognised part of the Peverell family and, since he was _head _of the family, that meant that it was entirely in his control who could, or could not, remove the knife and wand from their place. The crest of his primary family sat on the back of his forearms, embroidered in gold into the black leather, and the holsters had silver vine patterns wrapping around them.

And why the fuck was Dumbledore staring at him like that? The old man was just _asking_ to be cursed.

Harry growled ever so slightly as Bagman finished his speech.

"... within the space of an hour! The task will begin in 10! 9!"

Harry flicked his wrist, and his wand was in his right hand in a moment.

"8! 7!"

He rolled his shoulders, and glanced over where the girls were in the crowd; Daphne was glaring at the judges with a gaze that could freeze Hell over, and the others were shooting venom-filled looks between glances at Harry and Fleur.

"6! 5!"

Harry glanced over at Fleur, on his right, and the girl gave a shaky smile in return. Harry wondered why she was so nervous about the coming challenge.

"4! 3!"

He moved his gaze, briefly, over to the other champions, one of whom stared ahead with a stony gaze and the other looked very pale.

"2! 1!"

Harry pressed the tip of his wand against his throat, and cast the pre-prepared spell to transfigure gills onto the sides of his neck.

"BEGIN!" Bagman announced, and Harry lunged forwards into a dive as the others entered the water. He gasped, and inhaled a breath, as he felt the cold. Shrugging it off, Harry flicked his wand at his feet, and they extended and joined with webbing to allow him to swim faster than he'd otherwise be capable.

He began to swim into the darkness, and waited for his cat-eyes to adapt to the lack of light. Harry descended, assuming that the captives would be at the bottom, as the champions needed somewhere that could be found by each of them, and a random spot in the centre of the lake would be impossible to be found by each of them respectively, ad his eyes followed a rainbow-coloured fish that, bravely, floated past his face.

At this point, he began to feel somewhat irritated by the nature of this task. While he was not particularly _adverse_ to water, he was far more suited to the ground and the air simply because of the animal forms he held. None of them were particularly agile in the water. If he had had a fish, Harry would probably have found no use at all for it in every other situation, but in _this_ one, it would be useful to have. Maybe a shark, or something. But, alas, that was not feasible and so he pressed on with his wand in hand ready to defend himself.

Evidently the lake was deeper than Harry expected, as he was swimming for over 10 minutes before he finally hit the muddy bottom. Pausing briefly to get his bearings, Harry used a _point me_ spell to find North, and found that it was pointing to his right. He had started in the southern quarter of the lake, and so assumed that he needed to head in that direction, though he would have to also keep an eye out to check he did not pass by Astoria, and Gabrielle for that matter, on accident.

Harry proceeded North, with his wand in hand and his eyes darting left and right, and easily propelled himself forwards with his webbed, elongated feet. Other than schools of fish that, mostly, scampered upon sight of him, Harry did not see any creatures, and none of note especially. His eyes narrowed as this remained true after another fifteen minutes, as he understood that the lake was populated by Merfolk, hence the clue, and that he most likely would have caught a _glimpse_ of one of the humanoids by this point. Maybe they were guarding the captives? That would make sense with the clue; it almost sounded like the Mermen and maids had taken that which the champions would _sorely miss_. Or, more worryingly, they might be focused on one of the other champions. He hoped that it would not be Fleur, if that was the case.

The black haired teen then had his foolish prayers answered as he saw a flicker of movement off to his side. Harry spun, raised his wand, and shot a jet of red light in the direction of the shadow. It missed whatever was near him, as the flicker of movement suddenly above him informed the Hogwarts' champion. Harry flipped to that he was facing upwards, and shot another beam of light, this one blue, in the general direction. This time, his spell splashed against the creature's scaled underbelly, and lit it up as the thing recoiled from the sudden impact. Harry saw some kind of... cat-fish hybrid above him and shivered at the purple scales, and the deadly-sharp teeth that were lit by the blue spell.

Mildly panicked, Harry followed the blue jet with a _reducto_, and caught the attacker in its front fore-paw, breaking the limb, and the hybrid flinched away, only to reappear with a vengeance. It went for his throat, and Harry snarled in return to the wicked hiss as his hand shot to the back of its head. He flung it away, and brought up his wand again. A red jet of light struck it in the face, and then another hit it in the mouth as it attempted to roar at Harry, though based on its stature this would have been closer to a meow anyway. This, apparently, was a weak-point, and the cat-fish drifted to the lake-bed unconscious.

Harry frowned at the thing, and wondered just what it was. He did not know that there were creatures like that in the Great Lake, and was baffled by that fact, given that he had been preparing for the past few weeks for the challenge.

Then, his concerns were pushed aside as the shadow of the giant squid fell over him, and Harry darted out of the way in time for the squid to scoop up an easy snack in the fish-cat hybrid. Harry felt some small remorse for the thing, but wasn't going to try to save it from something that may well have been inevitable, if the squid liked eating them, and swam away from the scene with another _point me_ to tell him he was headed in the right direction.

It was a few minutes more before he encountered his next obstacle, and Harry was willing to bet that that meant he was drawing near his destination, as the defences would be kicked into high gear near the captives to try to test the champions.

A Grindylow launched itself at Harry from the cover of some weeds, telling the Hogwarts champion that others would soon come find him as well. As the demon-looking creature neared Harry; its hands outstretched to strangle him, Harry's wand flashed, and it ran away in a panicked fashion as it was banished a metre away from the black-haired teen with a single thought. Following up on the chance, Harry stunned his attacker and swam up a few feet in case there were others waiting to ambush him. To check, Harry sent a stream of super-heated water into the weeds, and was rewarded with a series of shrieks, and a group of the water-creatures fleeing the scene.

Harry continued on his way, keeping an eye out for Astoria, and encountered no more difficulties. All in all, it'd been a pretty easy task. The attackers hadn't been formidable, after all; compared to a dragon they were nothing. Although, he did wonder what the judges would have done if one of the champions managed to get themselves strangled in this tournament that, supposedly, was the safest there had ever been.

Harry soon found the merpeople, and froze in the water with his wand raised at the sight of so many. Harry hoped they would not attack and, if they did, that Dumbledore did not expect them to survive the encounter. Stunning them might work, but it would be far too easy for one of the humanoids to play possum and attack him when he passed them. A hole through the chest, on the other hand, would be extremely difficult to fake. If Harry was lucky, they might flee once a few of their number had met that fate, and Harry shook his head free of the thoughts on whether mermaids believed in an afterlife. That was irrelevant at the moment.

They did not make any move to attack, and so Harry cautiously swam forwards at a creeping pace. Then, he spotted the captives and all thoughts of caution abandoned him. They looked _dead_, and Harry needed to check they were not.

He swam to Astoria first, both because she was his captive and because she was nearer than the tiny, blonde girl that was tied to a statue, without any defining features, next to her. With his free hand, Harry placed two fingers to the Greengrass girl's neck, and found her pulse.

He let out a sigh of relief after doing the same to Gabrielle, and drew the knife from his forearm holster. He began to cut the ropes of Astoria, and took her in his arms once the girl was free, before raising the knife to do the same for the others.

"No!" A voice hissed to his right, as a skinny hand took hold of his forearm. Harry turned a scowl on the merman, but was ignored as he continued. "Only your own!"

Harry shrugged it off, and moved to cut the rope tying Gabrielle to the statue. He heard an angered growl from behind him, an odd noise to hear in water, and turned to find a trident pointed at his throat. After several minutes of staring back at the merman, Harry's knife was replaced with his wand, and he prepared to cast on the fish-man that was threatening him. He would have done, as well, had a distraction in the form of Viktor Krum appeared.

Krum, half-way transfigured into a shark, tore past the merfolk, and then past Harry, not sparing even a glance at the fact that a trident was pointed at his fellow champion's throat. Harry scowled at that, and decided to assume his mind was more primitive in that form. He scratched at the ropes tying a brunette, who Harry then realised was Hermione Granger, and gradually got more and more annoyed that he could not cut them. Eventually, the Bulgarian teen began looking around for a solution, and Harry held up his knife in offer. Krum gratefully snatched it from the other male, and promptly cut Hermione free before passing it back to Harry. He vanished again, and rocketed upward.

Harry turned back to the Merman, and emerald eyes met dark grey. Harry raised his wand, and pointed the tip at the merfolk behind his would-be-opponent. It lit up in a brilliant glow, and the threat was clear. He would attack _them_, if he was not allowed to take all of the captives. Harry watched the Merman contemplate it, and realise that he did not care anywhere near enough to risk the lives of his fellows. The merman backed away, and waved a hand at the hostages in a gesture of permission. Harry nodded, and cut Gabrielle free before turning to the final captive.

Ginny Weasley looked lifeless in the depths, and Harry had a quick mental debate on whether he should take the girl.

On the one hand, he hated his brother, and his captive not being rescued would reflect badly on the boy.

But the same would be true if another champion rescued the girl, and Ginny did not deserve to be left in the gentle care of the merfolk. The girl was wholly innocent of Thomas Potter's sins, even if Harry did not know what the girl's character was. The few times that he had met her eye, and they were _few_, Ginny had simply turned bright red, stammered something out, and fled the scene. The time she dropped her broomstick when Harry encountered the youngest Weasley on his way back from practise, the girl had panicked so much that she forgot her broomstick. Harry had no use for another broomstick, and so he found one of the Weasley twins and gave the broomstick to him.

With her innocence in mind, Harry cut the girl free and awkwardly took her into his arms as well as the other two. It was difficult to hold all three, but Harry made do and pushed himself up towards the surface. Then, he began to pump his legs in a barely-effective imitation of swimming.

It was past the 50 minute mark when Harry caught sight of the surface light, and he redoubled his efforts with an annoyed whine. It would be just his luck if he was to encounter another threat here, but apparently someone was looking out for him as nothing appeared.

That meant it was before the time limit when Harry broke through the surface, and the teen held his breath as the girls woke; his gills still being present. Understandably, they panicked as Harry released Ginny and Astoria, both of whom he was certain would be able to swim for the few seconds he needed, and slung Gabrielle onto his back as he freed his wand once again; Harry was not as confident in the French Girl's abilities to swim and so chose to err on the side of caution. The champion pressed the tip of his wand against his throat, and removed the spell that was stopping him from breathing. He, with some great strength, kept his tone calm and reassuring as he spoke; ignoring the anger that rose inside him now that he had gotten all of the hostages to safety.

"_Are you okay_?" He asked, in French, of the girl on his back.

"_Y-Yes... where am I_?" Gabrielle asked, her tone fearful.

"_You were in the Great Lake. You're safe, though, so there's no need to worry. See, your sister and parents are over there._" He pointed still-webbed fingers over towards the nearest platform.

"_Your fingers look strange_." Gabrielle commented all of a sudden.

"_Yes, they're transfigured._" Harry explained. "_Come, let's get you back to your parents. Madame Pomphrey'll get you warm._" Her teeth were chattering. "You okay, Tori?" He asked. "Ginerva?" He added. The girls, blonde and redhead respectively, spun around and looked at Harry.

"Harry?" Astoria wondered. "Why are these two here? You didn't take the song _seriously_, did you?"

"No, but it's idiotic to leave anyone down there longer than necessary. I'm winning anyway, no need to go overboard tryin' to win a contest I only sort of care about." Harry shrugged, and then stopped with an apology as Gabrielle complained.

"Th-Thank you." Ginny commented, with red cheeks that Harry supposed could be blamed on the cold.

"You're welcome." Harry returned, with a smile that apparently was convincing as the colour deepened. "But I believe we should head to the platform." He reminded, and the girls suddenly realised they had just been hovering, treading water, and ignoring the yelling crowd. Both nodded, water splashing their chins, and began to swim away with Harry easily keeping pace.

They reached the side of the platform, and Harry smoothly passed Gabrielle to Madame Pomphrey, who began to fuss over her as Fleur shoved her way through the others towards her shivering sister. Then, Harry gave Astoria, and after her Ginny, a hand out of the cold water before looking around at the people that were watching him, and easily climbing out of the water himself.

Harry's eyes drifted, with some concern that was muted due to the anger that was bubbling inside him, over Fleur and he found that she seemed to be fine, if you did not count the fact that she looked ready to strangle someone from worry, and then to Thomas, who's left arm was wrapped in bandages, indicating that he had not escaped unscathed. The boy, reluctantly, gave Harry a look of thanks, for saving Ginny, but Harry ignored it in favour of looking for the adult he placed blame on for the entire situation. His eyes found their target, as most of the judges had moved over to this pontoon to check on the champions and their hostages, and Harry lunged forwards.

His hands bunched in the front of Bagman's robes as Harry, _partially_ in control of his temper after having roughly an hour to calm down, threw him off the platform and into the Black lake, as opposed to tearing his throat out as he so wished, where Ludo surfaced, spluttering, about the same time as a merman that Harry recognised. The screeches that Dumbledore exchanged with the new arrival were paid less attention than the furious Harry Potter screaming at one of the judges.

Fleur Delacour was prevented from thanking her Fiance, as one aspect of Harry's nature revealed itself to both her and those around. No matter what she had heard, the French champion had never truly believed Harry's friends about the anger he kept in check. Not that they often spoke of it, other than as a part of his animalistic nature.

"HOW DARE YOU?!" Harry roared at the man, expressing his anger in a more advisable way than his instincts craved, white teeth seeming to sharpen in the sunlight as he did. "You leave them down there, defenceless, to be guarded by MERMEN?! What if they'd died?! They aren't involved in this contest, and you had no right to put them in DANGER!" Harry's green eyes blazed, as he seriously contemplated drowning the blustering fool.

"M-Mr Potter!" Minerva Mcgonogall was the one to speak up, horrified at one of their students behaving like this. "Mr Bagman is an adult, and deserves re-"

"_Respect?!"_ Harry rounded on the woman, with a snarl. "I will not give my respect to a man that endangers _children_ for the sake of a GAME!" He yelled at the woman, who unwillingly backed away a few steps, as did the majority of the people sharing the platform with Harry. "And I will not give any respect to _anybody_ that knew about this! You are lucky that they are uninjured, if they had not been..." Harry trailed off, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Mr Potter!" Dumbledore stepped in, with his own dangerous glint. "You will not threaten _anybody_ in my presence!" He demanded of the boy who he believed to have a dark nature. This was not helping his opinion, and that fact would not change until Albus was alone in his study later, and contemplating Harry's reasons for such anger. "Do I make myself clear?!"

Harry's response was a low growl, as the teen took a step towards the old man, and his fists clenched.

"Potter!" Severus Snape intervened, before one of his snakes, one of the those he preferred, in fact, punched out the Headmaster. Harry's attention turned to him, and Severus spoke again. "The Headmaster asked you a question. _Answer him_." He demanded, and ignored the fury that was now burning a hole in his own charcoal eyes.

"_Yes_." Harry spoke in a low tone. "He _makes himself clear_." The teen turned to stare at the drowned-rat looking form of Ludo Bagman who was climbing out of the water with a wary glance at Harry, and then at Albus Dumbledore himself. "And I will not apologise. If you ever endanger someone I care about for the sake of your fucking _contest_, you and I _will have words_. And you will not like what I have to say." Harry promised, and bared his teeth in what, to humans, would seem to be a savage grin. Albus was fairly certain that, from the Potter boy who was often more beast than man, it was a threat.

-()()()-


	21. Fallout

**Here's another Chapter of Feral, and with this three of my stories are past the 100k mark, which makes me very happy indeed, though my fourth has quite a ways to go yet.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Since I updated pretty darn recently (It's 01:50 here but it's probably the case that I updated "yesterday" in some places) I hope that this is a pleasant surprise. Not the most active/exciting chapter but necessary for both future events, and to wrap up the last chapter, which I believe we can agree ****_was_**** quite active. **

**Oh, at one point, you may well get annoyed with me/Harry/Fleur. I'm certain that ****_I _****will be the subject of someone's ire, but I can't say for sure which of the two fictional characters people might blame.**

**I hope you like the chapter, and Feral so far. Please let me know if you do!**

**-()()()-**

Barely three hours later, Harry and the other Champions were treated to a show. One that was giving Harry a headache as he tried to keep up with three sets of parents, plus the eldest brother redhead, and the fury they were directing at the Headteacher that they held responsible for their child being endangered. Between him and Fleur, who kept glancing at Harry and making a face of concern at the contempt he was directing at his own Headmaster. Bill Weasley had done a remarkable job of hiding the _covert_ glances he directed at the Veela at the beginning of the meeting. He had stopped upon a silent snarl from Harry, and focused on the task at hand. Bill was not the type of person to go after another man's girl.

Karkaroff was in one corer, barely suppressing a smirk as none of the anger was directed at him. Nobody under his jurisdiction had been put under the lake, after all. In comparison, Albus was lucky that the Grangers had not been contacted by the unknown sources that called the Greengrasses and the Delacours, who had left upon dropping Gabrielle off and gaining countless reassurances from the daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law that they would keep her safe.

Currently, Harry was glad that he had succeeded in this promise. Not only would it have caused a relapse in his mental state far greater than the ones he had undergone recently, Appoline Delacour, apparently, could be fucking scary.

Even next to Molly Weasley, who was screaming her head off at Dumbledore, something that was uncharacteristic in Harry's eyes given that the Weasley's were adamant supporters of the Old Man, but these were extenuating circumstances, and Andrew Greengrass who loomed silently behind the Redheaded woman with a glare that could give Hell a nice, winter-wonderland look, Appoline was the angriest, followed closely by her husband.

Then again, Harry completely understood their anger. He even empathised with it, which was something of a rarity with him when in ordinary circumstances, as their youngest daughter, with earplugs in her ears, leant tiredly against Harry's side. There was no doubt in his mind that her... interest in him had grown exponentially after the events of the Black Lake. He worried about Gabrielle for a moment, and the stress that she had been put under, and this lead to his anger coming back, and him glaring at Dumbledore again. The Headmaster had not once given Harry a patented look of disappointment, which confused the teen slightly, but that did nothing to remove the desire Harry held to pin him to the neck by his throat and begin punching the Old Bastard again and again in his crooked nose until his knuckles either broke, or met the stone wall behind his head after making their way through the half-dust bones between. Well, that would not be possible with Gabrielle on his right, between he and her older sister, and Astoria on the left holding Harry's hand tightly with her own slightly subdued look of fury.

The Hogwarts champion's frown let up, as he decided that it would not do to act rashly, and that he would have to take a more human, or failing that serpentine, approach. Hunters had to be patient, and Harry was nothing if not a hunter. And, so, he ran a hand over the sleek blonde hair of his... future sister-in-Law, and that thought was one to almost bring back his frown, and the small girl smiled brilliantly, if sleepily, up at him before wrapping thin arms around his waist. That brought a small grin from Harry, and he saw that the same could be true of Fleur, who had been watching the brief exchange. Green eyes met blue for a moment, before a shriek from the Weasley monarch dragged their attention over to Molly. Once again, Fleur resigned herself to wait for the opportune moment to thank Harry.

"... AND ANOTHER THING!" She yelled, furious at the notion of losing her precious daughter. Said daughter tried to sink into the shadows behind her eldest brother, as she just about stared at Harry. The hero-worship that Harry sensed was coming would be far less endearing than Gabrielle's. Apparently, Ginny felt some embarrassment over the remarkable volume her mother had been consistently reaching for Merlin-knows how long. "HOW CAN YOU EXPECT PARENTS TO BE TRUSTING OF YOU WHEN YOU REFUSE TO EVEN _CONTACT_ _THEM_ WHEN YOU PUT THEIR CHILDREN IN _MORTAL PERIL_?!" A good point, but one she had made already. They had been berating the teachers for a long while now, with the obvious objections to their children's lives being risked, the lack of consultation, and, on a lesser note, the stress that the champions had been put under by the threat of not saving someone they cared so deeply about, though Molly Weasley had only mentioned that for the sake of continuing to yell, Harry believed. He felt sorry for the Weasley twins, who had no doubt been on the receiving end of _this_ any number of times.

While the French Lady was terrifying, the affect only intensified by the fact that her hands, clenched into fists, were giving off smoke, Apolline Delacour was not as _loud_ as Molly Weasley and so Harry could not quite tell what she was saying to inspire visible fear in the half-Giant that she was berating. All he knew was that Fleur did not seem all that surprised, and that it must have been substantial as Maxine did not give the impression of being anything near a pushover. Her husband was quiet, as his wife spoke. If Harry could judge the expression properly, and he believed that he could, after some examination, he would say that the man was torn on what should be the prominent emotion he was feeling. Anger was the most obvious, and he seemed to be keeping it in check to bring up in a more satisfying setting later that day, perhaps to get the tournament banned in the future, or to get the ministry officials in charge of the tournament fired, and so it warred with other emotions for ruling-rights of the man at the moment. Relief that his daughters were fine, was an example of another emotion. And, maybe, another was self-hate for leaving Gabrielle here in the first place to become a hostage.

Harry only briefly wondered why the Greengrasses had not been as livid as the other parents, though they were still angry enough that Harry's respect for Dumbledore climbed a notch, after the twenty it fell earlier in the day, at the fact that he did not cower from the murderous intent in Andrew's eyes. Andrew Greengrass had never been a particularly violent man, he had kept out of the last war, but Harry knew the very tall, short-haired blonde man well enough to say with absolute certainty that he would kill for the sake of his family. Astoria was, if anything, the one that he was most concerned for; likely followed by Daphne, his wife, the other girls and then Harry, as he _did_ hold blood in some small regard due to his upbringing meaning that blood-relations were important, and because Harry had shown time and again that he did not need concern.

Adelaide, too, was directing a look of anger at the old man, but Harry knew her to be the kindest soul he'd ever encountered, deep down. He doubted that she would _kill_ Dumbledore, no matter how angry she was, even if he did not really understand that policy. In her state of anger, who could blame her if she cut his head off? Or made it explode? Or gave him an aneurysm? Or cut him in half, or enchanted the Old Man's desk into a rabid dog and set it on him, or electrocuted him? Or, more mercifully, tore the beard off his face.

"_... then, finally, I will burn you to a crisp. You will be filed as missing, and people will hear rumours that you ran off to be with your kind. Nobody will ever suspect your fate_." There was a rare quiet moment from Mrs Weasley, and Harry heard this, hissed in French, by Fleur's mother. Harry's eyes widened, and he assumed that she had been warning the woman what would happen if she put Gabrielle in danger again. That sounded... scarily feasible. With her husband's sway in the ministry, and the prejudice towards half-giants...

This continued on for a while, before Harry and the others were dismissed during a lull in the collective conversations . He had a feeling that Dumbledore had only meant the students, but the adults left with their children, refusing to leave their sides just yet. Harry would have smirked at the fact, if he had not been left behind, with Gabrielle somehow asleep stood, leaning against him. Her soft breathing that bordered on snores was cute, but not worth the awkward situation of standing with three people he had, indirectly in two cases, yelled at.

"Uh... sorry, I'll wake her up." Unable to think of a better thing to say, Harry softly shook Gabrielle awake, who's grip fell away as she looked blearily up at him. Harry smiled apologetically and scooped her up into a bridal-carry. The girl, tiny as she was in Harry's arms, snuggled into his chest and fell asleep again. He guessed that she must have been wiped out by the challenge, and the stress, and so simply smiled at the action. Harry, carefully, darted out of the room before Dumbledore could strike up a conversation and quickly left him to talk with his fellow Head-teachers.

"What will you do wiz Meester Potter, Dumblydoor?" Maxine asked, once the black-haired lad had left the Headmaster's office. She was understandably fond of the teen, after he saved so many of her students, and felt some concern after his outburst. Maxine wholly agreed with what he had said, and she and Albus had both campaigned not to have _people_ as what must be saved. They had been overruled, though, and so the task had not been changed.

"I assume that you mean after his reaction at the end of the task today," Dumbledore inferred. "I will have to speak to Minerva on the subject. If she wishes to punish him, I will be inclined to agree, but I believe that she will be as close to lenient as she ever comes. Mr Potter is one of her favourite students, because of his talent in her subject and the fact that, as hard as it may be to believe, he typically causes no trouble whatsoever?"

"Really?" Igor's gruff tone showed his scepticism. "He seems to disregard the rules."

"Yes, he does. Minerva was, however, expecting much worse from him, and Harry rarely acts out without good cause. He hardly ever does mischief for the sake of mischief."

"You speak as though _you_ are fond of him, as well." Igor noticed. "This afternoon you seemed to hate him."

"I do not hate anybody, Igor. You should know that about me by now, but I understand why you would believe that about me. Believe it or not, today's events have helped reshape my opinion on the character of the elder Mr Potter. He has had a tough life, but he can be saved from the path he is walking."

"'Ze path 'e ees walking'?" Maxine repeated. "What do you mean by zis?"

"You know of the events of your school Madame, we discussed them in this very office. I worry what that shows of Mr Potter's character, despite what I said at the time. The fact that he showed so little remorse for their deaths is disturbing. I expected him to show some measure of trauma _after_ the events. No matter what his formative years were, no child should care so little about having blood on his hands." He did not think what his words would inspire in the woman, and so gave the slightest flinch at the sudden change in her expression. He would soon learn that it was best to avoid angering a Half-Giant at all costs, and be more cautious of what he said, regarding her 'favourite Englishman' in the future.

()-_-()-_-()-_-()

"'Arry," Apolline began, as Harry joined them with Gabrielle slumbering in his arms. "I deed not get ze chance to say zis earlier, but _zank you_. I do not know 'ow to express my gratitude to you for risking your life for Gabrielle..." She said, with utmost sincerity, and Harry's expression became one of discomfort. He quickly changed it to a smile, as the others focused their attention on him; Apolline had been the first to spot him.

"There's no need to thank me," Harry replied. It was true, he did not particularly like being thanked, in fact, for things like this; that he would call significant. It made him feel uncomfortable, and unsure how to respond. "I didn't like the idea of leaving them down there, 'specially since Gabrielle's always been so sweet." He continued.

"We cannot ever thank you enough, zough, Monsieur Potter." Sebastian corrected, also with sincerity. That was a relief to Harry, as he had never gotten the impression that the man was particularly fond of him. While he would not care in ordinary circumstances, it was seeming extremely likely that they would spend inordinate amounts of time together, and Harry would be extremely uncomfortable being around a man that was hostile for any period of time outside of school. "I am sure zat zey had safety measures in place, but anyzing could 'ave gone wrong. If we had lost 'er..." He did not need to finish his sentence, as his wife took the man's hand. Apparently, Harry noted, they were willing to leave their youngest in his arms.

"In that case," Harry's smile was truer now. "You're welcome." He said simply.

"Harry," Another voice, one he did not really recognise, began. Harry turned to see the balding, red-headed patriarch of the Weasley clan speaking to him. Based on the gratitude in his eyes, Harry was fairly certain it was a very, very good thing he did not know the boy in front of him had also rescued Ginny years prior in the Chamber-of-secrets incident. As nice as the Weasleys seemed to be overall, Harry found them irritating. They were far too exuberant for his tastes and, more importantly, had bred a couple of idiots that he'd sooner attack than talk to. Percy and Ron being the prominent examples. Plus, the red-haired girl's looks were already getting on his nerves. "I- we want to thank you as well. I can't express my gratitude through words, but Ginny... if we had lost her again- if you ever need anything-" Arthur Weasley stumbled over his words in his haste.

"I'll bear that in mind," Harry smiled, it was not particularly sincere, but it was hopefully believable. While the offer was very kind, especially as the Weasleys had only so much they could offer, Harry did not think that they would have anything he needed. Nor would he feel right taking it. "Thank you, Mr Weasley."

"Arthur, please." Mr Weasley insisted. Harry nodded, though he did not think they would have another conversation, and the man grinned at him.

Harry held Gabrielle closer to him, silently thanking whatever deity was watching over him, with gratitude in his heart as the Weasley Matriarch looked like she wanted to hug him, but stopped herself with a look at the bundle in his arms. She repeated her husband's sentiments, before herding her daughter towards the Hospital Wing.

Harry's fake smile turned real as Andrew clapped him on the shoulder; that was as close as the two came to hugging, and Harry was glad that the man approved of his actions. Adelaide came to his other side, and awkwardly wrapped an arm around the teen, who was taller than her by quite a bit, in an imitation of a hug. Harry smiled at her, and his thoughts idly wandered, as they sometimes did, to wondering why both of their daughters had received her Violet eyes, and Andrew's blonde hair, but nether had the man's blue eyes or her ebony locks. It was unimportant, but her eyes reminded him of her daughters', and that made Harry happy. Neither of his _parents_ made a sound, as they silently informed him that he was right in the decision. Harry had known that what he had done was right in his own opinion, but had not been certain whether they would be okay with him technically-assaulting an authority figure. It was a relief that they were.

When Harry turned his attention back to the Delacours, it was with confusion that he noticed that Fleur and her mother were staring, silently, at each other. As though they were having a muggle staring contest, and Harry did not see the point of the game. Perhaps it was popular in the French Wizarding community, though. Harry had no idea, and so he did not think all that much of it when Apolline blinked and sighed, signalling that she had lost. It was a bit of a surprise, though, when she proceeded to pry Gabrielle, very much unwillingly, off of her saviour. The girl's complaints disappeared as they went towards the Entrance Hall, but Sebastian's confused questions as to why they were leaving Fleur lingered slightly longer.

Then, Fleur and Adelaide were having a staring contest. This confused Harry more, as he had never known his foster mother to care for the game, and when the woman took hold of Andrew's arm, and Astoria's hand, and practically dragged her family away with the beginnings of a frown, Harry's confusion rose. He turned to Fleur with an eyebrow raised and voiced his concerns.

"Where are they going?" He, quite simply, asked. Usually, they would have informed Harry where they would meet up again.

"_I asked them to give us a moment_." Fleur replied, in French, with a blank mask that in no way helped Harry deduce what was going on.

"_I did not hear you ask them to go._" He commented, in response.

"_I hinted that I would like them to leave, then_." The girl smiled slightly, before it fell away and left the lack of expression. "_Women's intuition_."

"_Okay_," Harry shrugged, not overly concerned. "_What's up?_" He asked, with no more preamble.

"_I wanted to say thank you, for rescuing my sister when I was not able_."

"_There's really no ne-_"

"_I know,_" Fleur nodded, and her silver-blonde hair swayed slightly. "_But I wanted to... say it, nonetheless._" She stepped forwards, and Harry noticed that she was carefully regulating her breathing. Needless to say, he was still baffled. When she stepped closer than people were typically comfortable being around Harry, he began to suspect that she was going to kiss him. It made sense, if he was right about his own aesthetic appeal, as they were, he supposed, romantically linked through the contract. He supposed that he liked the idea, though it was still a foreign concept to him. It did not make much sense, to press ones lips against another in a sign of affection, to Harry, after all.

He seemed to be correct, as the girl, shorter than him at about 5'10, took his chin in her hand, seemed to blush, and stood on her tiptoes.

Then, she kissed him on the cheek, and Harry blinked as the girl fled in the direction of the others. He rubbed his jaw, and cheek, absent-mindedly as she did, and pondered the French that she was hissing as she fled. Why was she calling herself a coward? She had gone into the lake despite her Veela nature, after all, so it did not make sense in context of the challenge. Did that mean that she was cowardly for kissing him on the cheek? Why would an expression of thanks be cowardly?

Harry was confused.

-()()-

Had they always been afraid of him? In a way, the Hogwarts champion hoped they had.

He didn't find any particular pleasure from the notion of the other houses fearing him; okay, it may have stoked his ego slightly, but Harry didn't care that much about his ego anyway, so the pleasure was insignificant and, as a Second Year Hufflepuff saw him, panicked, and fled, Harry's brow sank into a small frown because he felt bad for scaring the little girl. Then, it went away when he realised that all he had done to scare her was be in the vicinity. It was not his fault.

No, the reason that he hoped they had was simply because they _should_ have feared him throughout his school career. Not Harry the boy, but the animal that they really ought to be sense. Sense just by looking at him or, if they did not have that insight into the human soul, by the way he stalked through the corridors sometimes when he was not focused on appearing as though he was one of them, that Harry was different. The animal that was him, while docile most of the time, was _dangerous_. _Harry_ was dangerous, as could be evidenced by the good few Slytherins he had sent to the Hospital wing in his earlier years, yet the Slytherins never told that it was he that hurt them, either because of House Loyalty or their pride was wounded by the younger student thrashing them.

In another, more prominent way, though, he hoped that the fear would fade back into a subconscious wariness of the beast-dressed-as-a-man. This was annoying. People squealed, and Harry scowled, and then more people squealed, and Harry growled. Then, either a younger student began to cry, and Harry felt bad, or they fled, which Harry would be grateful for, or, in the cases of some idiots, they said something obnoxious, and Harry snarled at them. Then, someone in the vicinity _would_ start to cry, and Harry would sigh before leaving the area to allow them to be comforted. How had he suddenly become so much more intimidating, just by yelling at the Headmaster? Sure, they had seen a side of Harry that was usually kept private, and the aloofness of him was, weirdly, what made people see him as _cool_, but there had been no significant change between the morning of the Fourth task and now.

Harry was sure that there were other reactions, but his attention was drawn to the fearful. It didn't help that he could _literally_ smell fear, and that the scent was something his attention was drawn to. His looking at them would increase the potency, and it would be a few moments before Harry dismissed it as insignificant. One of his brother's room-mates, Longbottom, would freeze and lose all of the colour from his face upon Harry's eyes meeting his. It would have been funny, were it not so concerning and, more importantly, fucking annoying.

Thankfully, his friends had not changed their attitude towards him, and the Slytherins had always had a wariness about them when it came to Harry. That meant the Common Room was safe, and Harry was glad of that haven even though he had no choice but to venture out for lessons and mealtimes. Interestingly, the other schools seemed to have a far more subdued reaction to Harry's outburst. Perhaps they were not so... herd-like as the Hogwarts masses.

And a small, blonde Third Year from Ravenclaw had inexplicably started following him around. He would need to talk to Caroline or Jasmine about this. Maybe they could get the Lovegood girl to stop shadowing him, and looking like he'd kicked her puppy whenever he went into the Slytherin Common Room.

-()()()()-

**Harry was confused. Now, he's annoyed. He's quite often sleepy, and hungry rather frequently as well. Speaking of which, I'm tired also, and that probably explains why I am writing this little message. So... who are you annoyed with for the situation that left Harry confused?**

**People'll say that it's out of Character for Fleur, I reckon, but in this story (and a lot on this site for that matter) she's inexperienced just because she doesn't trust guys after being warned against them for her entire life. Oh, and she didn't run off like a giggling school girl, she more chickened out and fled before the situation could become overly awkward. She understands romance and the like much better than Harry, but hardly has any more experience.**


	22. Harry is a Good Kitty

**Here's another chapter of Feral, that I hope you will enjoy. It's a strange chapter, in that it's pivotal to the plot, and has a good bit of character development that has been lacking for the character(s) in question. A little less Harry-centric at a few points than previous chapters, though a good portion is still about him. Oh, and I've discovered that I find it far easier to do character development for secondary characters in this format, so I'll probably start doing some more of that. I hope that's good news for everyone.**

**Okay, you know how everyone keeps saying that Daphne is a bitch? No? Really? Well, there've been ****_quite a few_**** comments like that in the review section, and... yep, she is****, but she ****_does_****care about Harry. She's far from lovey-dovey, or emotional, though, and so rarely shows a lot of kindness to Harry or anyone else. In this chapter, you both get to see her being... well, not necessarily a ****_bitch_****, but not ****_pleasant _****by any stretch of the imagination and get to see the extent to whichi she cares about Harry. Oh, and Daphne ****_talks_****much more than normal even if it's in the form of a kind-of monologue.**

**With that, I must warn you that there are references to torture in this chapter. Not graphic, in my mind, but hints at it. I in no way condone torture. Nor self-harm, which is ****_kind of_****touched upon in this chapter, though it is not without good reason and isn't because of depression or the like. Unfortunately, the reason isn't at all clear just yet, and you'll have to trust me that it exists.**

**I'm starting to suspect that I packed Feral a little full, I must say, with the six tasks. It's already up to 100k words, and I have not illusions about bringing it to an end any time soon. I don't believe that it'll drag out, my fics just tend to be a little slow-moving, but having just the three from Canon might have allowed me to get to the chapter that I both ****_really want_**** to write, and that I'm ****_utterly_****_dreading_**** writing.**

**Whew... long Author's note. Sorry 'bout that, although it's a long chapter, too, so I guess it balances out! I own nothing.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter despite those little warnings, which are only there because I am sure some readers have sensitive dispositions. Please let me know if you did!**

**-()()()-**

"Hello, Ms Lovegood." Harry nodded to the girl, as he stepped out of the Sliytherin Common Rooms. "How are you today?"

The girl gave him a dreamy smile, and looked at something over his shoulder. "Hello, Harry." Luna reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, in much the same way that someone might stroke a cat. It was odd, but inspired a small smile in Harry. She was strange, but had never been anything but pleasant in the conversations they had had in the past weeks. They had had quite a few, as well, because the girl was in his company so often. Not that Harry understood _why_ she was around so often. "I'm very good." She didn't ask him in return, not feeling the need to make small talk. "You are up early today." She commented.

"It is a weekday," Harry pointed out. "I have classes; something that you clearly knew, since you're waiting outside of the Common Room."

"Yes, I suppose I did..." Her large, silver-grey eyes flicked onto his, and the girl frowned ever so slightly. "Your fan-club has grown."

"My fan club?" Harry's own frown was deeper than the girl's, and full of confusion.

"They have decided that they like you having a dark side," She nodded sagely. "People in my house are less earful of you now. Ginny Weasley likes talking about you." Harry had no idea if they were two separate statements, or if Luna meant them to be connected.

Harry grunted at the statement. "Why are they less fearful of me?" He wondered, ignoring the second part of the statement.

"Because you are a good kitty." She grinned at him, her silver-blue eyes shining in their sincerity, and reached up to pat him on the head. The grin turned to a pout when she found that it was difficult at Harry's height, and the older teen bowed his head, complying with her unspoken wishes. It was easy enough to do, and he did not like the idea of upsetting the fragile girl. "You haven't roared at anyone since the old one." That was easy enough to translate, unlike some of her statements. Harry presumed that meant their fear had faded since he yelled at Dumbledore.

"Hm." Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that, but at least that was one source of annoyance that wouldn't bother him anymore. "And are my... fanclub planning anything?"

"They have hired me to be their spy." Luna nodded.

"Oh?"

"They've promised that the Nargles will stop moving my things if I tell them about your schedule."

"The Nargles?" Harry repeated, with a frown. "How often do they move your things?"

"A few times a week." Luna shrugged. "They're mischievous. It is in their nature." She justified, at the scowl that formed on Harry's face. The black haired teen made a note to talk to Jasmine and Caroline about this when he got to the Great Hall.

"If _I_ stop the Nargles, will you agree not to tell them anything?"

Luna nodded instantly, and gained another dreamy smile as she looked at Harry.

-()()-

It was roughly ten minutes later when he was talking to the two, with Luna sat next to him, humming softly, and the two sat across from them.

"Does Luna get bullied?" Harry asked, without preamble. She did not seem to notice him talking about her, and if she did took no offence.

The two girls frowned in unison. "Yeah, she does," Jasmine nodded sombrely. "But I've never heard _who_ does it. Luna believes that they're... what's the word? Narfles?" She frowned in thought, but couldn't think of the word. "But, anyway, she thinks that its some kind of creature that takes her stuff, and doesn't tell anyone who might be responsible. But, if it helps, that's slowed quite a bit since she's been taken under your wing." She smiled at Harry, who blinked at the expression. "Be happy about it. She's getting far more protection from following you around than she was ever given by the teachers. Surely that would offset anything... negative about the situation." She did not want to explicitly _say_ that Luna would be annoying Harry with her shadowing of the teen.

"Eh. It's not that bad. Luna's... kind." Harry didn't know exactly what to call her. "Like another little sister." And yes, Harry effectively had three now. Astoria, Luna and Gabrielle were all girls that he would kill for in a second. He was as protective of them as a wolf would be of the younger members of its pack. "But you don't know who's bullying her, huh?" He asked this of Caroline, now, as she had not outright answered.

"No, sorry." Her expression was somewhere between a wince and a grimace. "And it's not like we can find out now that it's stopping. Whenever I ask her, or anyone else, they just answer that Nargles steal her stuff, although the others usually say it mockingly."

"Oh," Harry was unhappy that he didn't know who was doing it, and therefore could not give them a piece of his mind. Then, a thought occurred to him that, while unpleasant, would probably provide a solution to the problem. "Luna mentioned that my... ah, 'fan club' bribed her by telling her that they'd stop the Nargles from bullying her. That sounds like they'll know who's responsible." He justified his next question. "Do you know who... I don't know, runs it?"

Jasmine shook her head, but Caroline nodded slowly. "Jennifer Lanet, I've heard. I thought you'd be more bothered by the fact that you _have_ a fan club." She remarked. "Aren't you normally annoyed by the attention?" Caroline smirked at Harry as she said this, and the boy did not return it, weirded out by the fact.

"Oh, I think it's creepy as hell, but I'm the Hogwarts Champion, so I guess it makes _some_ sense." His shoulders rose in a shrug, and Caroline continued.

"Yeah...right." She decided it was best not to mention that it started up before the Trwizard tournament. "That's her over there, though." She pointed at a ginger girl on the Hufflepuff table, and asked Harry. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Please." Harry nodded, not liking the idea of talking to a girl that, apparently, held some sort of obsession with him. Caroline and Jasmine rose, followed by Harry and, after she saw that her new friend had stood, Luna.

The black-haired lad made sure to tell Jennifer Lanet that she and her fellows should, also, refrain from bullying Luna, as they had previously implied. In retrospect, he could have just mentioned that it would worsen his opinion of them, and they'd likely have stopped.

-()-()-()-

Harry arrived late to Lunch that day, because of the delay his confrontation with the Fifth Year Ravenclaw boy that was the most active bully. The Ravenclaw had been left stuck to the ceiling by the runic equivalent of a sticking charm that, eventually, would fade away. Unfortunately for the boy, it would be a good few hours before that happened, and he had it written across his face that Luna Lovegood was to be left alone. The impact of this message was vastly increased by the fact that is legs would be stuck together for the next three days, and the teen would be forced to get around in an imitation of a bunny-hop, and by the fact that his voice had been turned to a soprano tone. Nothing painful, as Harry understood that they had never physically hurt the girl that was under his protection, but very much inconvenient.

If the boy had any sense, he would not tattle, and even if he did Harry doubted that his punishment would be significant compared to the detentions he had to serve with their miserable git of a caretaker for the next dozen Tuesdays after his outburst at the task.

Harry walked into the Great Hall, and made his way over to the Slytherin table, where he sat across from Daphne and Tracy. While today had been one of those that he did not see them much, his four friends had been making a clear effort to repair any part of their relationships that may have suffered from their avoiding him somewhat in recent times. Harry did not think that he'd done anything to damage their friendships, after all.

"Hi," Tracy said softly, as he sat on the bench. The girl smiled kindly at Harry, and the teen felt his own expression mirror hers. "Is everything okay?"

"Yep. Why do you ask?" Harry returned, arching an eyebrow.

"You're rarely late to lunch," The girl shrugged, and tried to justify the concern. "I was worried something was wrong."

"Thanks for the concern, then. I had... a matter to take care of." He replied, with a small grin that hinted Harry found the matter amusing. "How are you today?"

"Good, good." She nodded her head, and glanced at the area around them. "Where's your shadow?"

"No idea." Harry shrugged. Later, he would learn that Luna forgot that it was lunchtime, and discussed with Hagrid the authenticity of her mythological animals instead. The friendly Gamekeeper was one of the ones that was _nearly_ as excited by the prospect as Luna, even if he doubted a good number of the creatures.

"Daphne? You okay?" Harry posed the same question. The girl simply nodded at Harry in response, letting him know that she was fine. The reason she had not wanted to talk, and for the slight frown, soon became clear to Harry. Several spaces to the blonde's right, Harry spotted Draco Malfoy ranting and raving to Astoria, who looked extremely irritated as she tried to finish her meal as quickly as possible. Harry scowled, also, at the fact. Daphne would not be angry about this without reason. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, in a low tone.

"Father spoke to me when he visited," Daphne explained. "For reasons unknown, Lucius Malfoy has decided to re-enter negotiations for one of our hands in marriage. Draco knows that I would send him to the hospital wing before conversing civilly, but knows that Father will never marry one of us to him without our consent. He is trying to butter Astoria up."

"He's not doing a very good job." Harry remarked, at the contempt in Astoria's eyes. From what he knew of courting, that hatred told him that Malfoy's chances of success were _slim._

"Clearly." Daphne said. "But I'm making sure that he doesn't grow frustrated, and make a threat. That might be why thing 1 and thing 2 are lingering in the background." Crabbe and Goyle were sat only a few places away, cramming food into their mouths.

Harry's irritation grew to become anger. He had always been protective of the youngest Greengrass, but it seemed to have risen since he pulled her from the lake; Harry guessed that it must be because he had seen that she _could_ be put in danger. He had never before seen her in a state of vulnerability, after all. Draco Malfoy was not what he would have thought of as a danger, but he was unwilling to risk it.

The simple solution would be to have a word with him after the meal, and remind him just why Harry was feared in Slytherin, and so he kept an eye on the Malfoy Scion throughout the meal as he turned back to Tracy and began to trade meaningless conversation.

"How're you doing in Transfiguration at the moment, Trace?" He asked. She was good in school, but struggled in the lesson under Mcgonagall. Harry resisted the temptation to smile as she turned a look of annoyance on him at the question. The champion of Hogwarts, it was well known, was a prodigy in the subject. He did not know exactly what the reason was, but it might have had to do with discovering his animagus forms as a child. The other techniques were pretty damn easy in comparison, and Harry greatly enjoyed learning the practical aspects of the subject. At the same time, Harry had a good memory, if not perfect, and had never understood the stress people felt in exams.

"Hmph." She scowled. "It could be better."

"Sorry, I haven't been much help lately, have I? How about I partner with you in the double?" They had Mcgonagall twice after lunch, and Harry should be able to diagnose something that she would be doing wrong.

"Thanks," She gave a half-hearted smily. "I don't like asking Mcgonagall for help." She confirmed.

"You never really got over your fear of her, did you?" Now, Harry was too amused to hide the smile, and her rolling some bread into a ball before flicking it at him did not help any.

-()()()-

At the same time as Harry fell back into conversation with Daphne and Tracy with a grin on his face, Fleur Delacour was sat in the Beauxbatons cabin eating with a few of her classmates. She did not feel like eating with the Hogwarts lot, and there were small, private tables in their accommodation that allowed her to be alone with her thoughts.

Her thoughts, as they so often were these days, were running over the mystery that was Harry Potter. Her _fiancé._ Thinking that, before the Fourth task, had irritated the Delacour heiress greatly, but now... not so much. She was warming to him, she supposed.

Well, warming to him may be an understatement, based on the dreams she had been having lately, but her affections for the English teen were certainly growing. Even to the point that she would, often, redden upon meeting the emerald eyes of her sister's saviour. The thought of that brought a smile to Fleur's face, as she remembered the sight of Harry and Gabrielle; her sister, cuddling into Harry's chest, had shown an affectionate side of the Potter heir that she had not seen much of in the past. One that she did not believe that many, if any, people had seen. The beautiful 17 year old believed, _firmly believed_ that Harry would risk his life for the diminutive girl any number of times; as many as it would take to assure Gabby's safety. Gabby, on the other hand, had a serious crush on her future brother-in-law. It was adorable. Far cuter than the irritating red-haired girl that Harry had saved's affections for him, which was simply annoying. If Fleur had not been representing her school, Ginny Weasley would have learned of her mistake by this point in time.

The Weasleys... Fleur was starting to hate that family. Ginny was an iritating little girl that believed herself entitled to everything and anything, including Harry, and Fleur was greatly annoyed by it. Her older brother, Ronald, was a pig. He smeared food over his face during meals, and made Fleur ill enough that she now sat with her back to the Gryffindor table, or did not eat in the Great Hall at all. While their older, twin brothers were less hate-able, they had caught her in one of their pranks, some kind of swamp in the middle of a hallway, and so Fleur was not exactly fond with them, either. The Weasley that had been in the Great Hall at the Ball had been boring enough to almost put her to sleep, and the woman-Weasley from the day of the Fourth Task had been _loud_.

Fleur knew that some people, particularly those students of Hogwarts, were afraid of, or had been afraid of, Harry now. That they somehow got the impression that he was evil, just because he had yelled at their Headteacher who was revered in England; nobody was bothered by Bagman being thrown into the lake, and Fleur was angry at them for that. She was angry at Caroline and the others for seemingly being fine with the fear; Daphne had said that Harry was fine with it, and that he would be unhappy if they got into trouble for his sake, but that was no excuse. It seemed, to her, that they did not care about Harry at all.

Most of all, though, she was angry at herself for the cowardice that she had shown with Harry. It would have been _so easy_ to kiss him, but her nerves had failed her, and she had pecked him on the cheek instead and lost her pride as she fled the scene.

-()-

Later that night, Fleur's belief that Harry's friends did not care about him was proven false, as Harry had retired to his dorm room, and Daphne and Tracy were making their way back towards the Slytherin Common room as curfew approached. They had been studying in the library as a fivesome but Harry had been forcefully removed, after some imagined slight, by Madame Prince. Apparently, in his earlier years, Harry had scrawled a series of runes in the margin of a book and she had seen. It did not matter that the book had been his; Madame Prince had held a grudge ever since.

The two were walking down a corridor, heading to the staircase and with it the Slytherin Common Room, when they heard the four Ravenclaw boys, three of whom were in Seventh Year, badmouthing their, by far, best male friend.

"Crazy bastard should be removed." One of them, Kevin, complained. This boy happened to be who Harry had left stuck to the ceiling for several hours today, and he was terrified by the memory of what Harry had said as he was doing it. "Potter just casually remarked that 'if you even think about taking revenge on her, I'll disfigure you'! Sounded like he was just talking about the weather!"

"What kind of freak uses 'disfigure' as a threat?" Another, Xavier, asked, his voice telling that the threat unnerved him. "It's... like he'd assigned a punishment or something."

"It was more like he wouldn't think twice about doing it." Kevin denied. "You've heard the rumours about him."

"Uhuh. I heard that he killed his first person when he was seven. What Dumbledore was thinking letting a murderer into the school, I'll never know." One that had not spoken yet, Donald, agreed, with disgust in his tone. "It was only a matter of time 'til the snake snapped."

"And all over some whack-job whore." The other boys laughed at the final 'Claw's label for Luna Lovegood. "I bet he's only defendin' her 'cause she's spreading her legs for him." The boys snickered again, wholly unaware of the fact that the eavesdropping girls, who had previously ignored the comments for the time being in favour of the more Slytherin approach of finding out who the conversationalists were and getting revenge later, were now _pissed_. Benjamin, the one that had spoken, would regret his words.

"Oh? And here are two more of his sluts," Benjamin noticed. "Come to spread your legs for us, too?" He did not notice the wands in each girl's grip. "I'm fine with Potter's sloppy seconds when they look like _that_." He licked his lips at the notion.

"Oh _fuck_," Kevin, who had only been discussing this due to his outrage at Harry Potter's revenge, hissed. "Shit! Shit! I'm sorry! W-We didn't mean any of it, I _swear_!"

"What's got your panties in a bunch?" Benjamin chuckled. "You that afraid of girls that you'd pass up on _this?"_ He shook his head. "Even a faggot like you should see how fit they are." He looked at the other two, and found that they, too, were afraid. "What the fuck's wrong with you lot?" He asked.

"Firstly," Xavier began. "They've got their wands out while we don't, and they're pretty damn talented." He'd seen both in action in the Duelling contest. Tracy had been knocked out in the fifth round, but Daphne was in the Semi-finals, and favourite of the girls to win. "Secondly, and more importantly, I think we'll all agree, Potter's willing to _disfigure_ Kev for playing some pranks on Lo-Luna," He caught himself, worried that they might not take kindly to his insulting the girl, despite their limited interactions with her. "Imagine what he'll do to _us_ if they tell him that we've been badmouthing _him_!"

"Never mind _that_!" Kevin shook his head. "It sounded like Ben was gonna do stuff to _them_! He'll fucking slaughter us!"

"Pff. Potter's all bark and no bite. I ain't afraid of him." Benjamin sneered.

"You should be." Daphne Greengrass hissed, with her wand pointed at the disgusting Seventh Year's crotch. "But _I'm _the one that you should be worried about right now." The wand-tip lit up in a violet glow. One that Benjamin dismissed.

"Oh, _please_. What are you gonna do? Tell your daddy on me? Piss off, princess." He chuckled.

"You're in for it now." Tracy Davis smirked, as Daphne snarled at them. "Harry'll kill you, but Daphne'll make it slow." Admittedly, the Greengrass heiress had never killed an animal, let alone a person, but Daphne had a sadistic streak that Harry lacked. It was more a flaw of some _humans_ than the violent animal tendencies Harry displayed.

"_Corugo_." Daphne hissed, and the violet jet of light struck Benjamin in the genitals. The boy stumbled back, and clutched his balls, before blinking and raising an eyebrow.

"Told ya," He commented to his friends. "Pathetic bitch can't even fire a spell that works."

"The point of torture," Daphne said, with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Is that it's _slow_."

"What's _that_ supposed to..." He trailed off, with a look of discomfort. "Ah, ow... What the fuck?" He wondered, as he pulled the crotch of his trousers away from his balls. "Shit, what in Merlin's name _is_ that?!"

"Do you want to know what Corugo roughly translates to in English?" Daphne asked, rhetorically. "It means _shrivel_." She smirked at the boy, as a look of horror came over his face. "I'm afraid that that's going to hurt for a while."

"W-Wait a minute!" Xavier pleaded, as she turned to them with a sadistic look in her eye. "We didn't say anything! It's- Please- Please don't!" He begged her not to cast that same spell. They were Ravenclaws, it wasn't all that hard to figure out what it would do to Benjamin's... man parts.

"Your testicles will survive," Daphne assured them, but the look was still there. "But since you were discussing my Harry so nastily, would you like to see a gift I had him give me?"

They did not answer, as Benjamin's shrieks of pain began and, just as quickly, vanished thanks to a _Silencio_ courtesy of Tracy. She was not the type to do what Daphne was about to, but was not going to stop the actions. She might leave, if the girl got too into it, but she would not stop it. Daphne was doing this on Harry's behalf. As Tracy saw her best friend reach into the hem of her robes' neckline, she had a feeling that leaving would be a good idea. She didn't have the stomach for the wailing that would come.

"You see this?" Daphne asked, removing a golden locket from around her neck and holding it, fondly, out for the Ravenclaws to lay eyes on. She flicked it open, and they saw a picture of Harry on one side, and Daphne on the other. "I have a picture with all of us in a frame, but I prefer only having me and Harry in this one." She smiled a happy smile. "You see, he gave it to me a few years ago. He gave all of us some jewellery after someone told him that girls liked jewellery, but knew that I wouldn't want to wear something as dressy as the others. More every-day, I suppose. Honestly, I'm sure Harry thought I'd put a picture of us six in one side, and a picture of my parents I the other, but I only had to tell him it was private to get him to relent with trying to see what pictures I chose. He's thoughtful that way.

"But what am I saying? I'm sure you have no interest in the pictures," She said, to the boys that had been inching their hands towards the pockets containing their wands. "No, the reason I show you these is both to let you know why I'm going to do this, I can't let you insult Harry, and because of the addition that I had Harry add. Can you guess what that might be?" She asked, and received no answer. "I convinced him that I'd benefit from having ways to defend myself, he later added similar things to the others' belongings, and he was horrified by the idea that I might get attacked and be unable to use magic to defend myself. It was sweet; he followed me around for a week after that, worried that I'd had some sort of vision, and he was all too willing to help me avoid any form of anguish, whether physical or emotional.

"You see, he drew some runes under where I would put the picture, so that I could easily get at them, and a few on the outside that meant that there's be a force similar to a 'concussive grenade' in the muggle world for everyone in the vicinity that wasn't named Daphne Greengrass. On the off chance that someone with my name was there, or that they somehow managed to recover quicker than I could open the locket, Harry would be alerted, and trust me when I say he'd be there faster than you could say 'oh shit, he's going to tear me limb from limb'. But back to the inside, those particular runes were ones I requested. You see, there are two; one under my face, the other under Harry's. The one under Harry's is, I believe, simply the translation of _pain_. It's milder than the Cruciatus, but you won't ever forget the feeling, I assure you. _Mine_, on the other hand, is more comparable to the presence of Dementors." She paused, and was pleased at the horror in their eyes. "It won't suck out your soul, or anything, but it's translated as something close to _misery_. I don't think you'll ever recover from that one either. Psychological damage, and all that.

"Now, I would rather give you the choice on which you wanted, because you would probably pick Misery over Pain, but Harry would know that I'd used it if I did; while pain can be caused by any number of things, that level of mental anguish is pretty much unique to Harry's runes. If he saw you like that, he'd assume that you'd laid hands on me, and kill you. And no, I'm not being melodramatic. He'd quite literally kill you." The boys did not doubt her tone. "With that in mind, I'm afraid this is going to hurt."

The three boys drew their wands in almost the same second, but Daphne really was a talented witch. She had them disarmed in the blink of an eye, and their wands were under foot. She stomped down on them, and all three broke with a _crack_. The boys turned fearful looks on their friend, who was now screaming silently in agony, and then looked at each other. The solution was simple. They could get past her, they were physically stronger, and then they could run. Ben could fend for himself. Almost as if she could read their minds, Daphne tutted.

"Ah, ah, ah." She shook her head, and then flicked her wrist. "_Petrificus Totalus_. _Petrficus Totalus_." Two of the boys, Kevin and Donald, fell to the floor. "You stay there and watch. I won't hold it on your friend for too long, only enough to know what will happen if he ever talks about Harry again as though he is not the best man in this school."

"Daph..." Tracy swallowed, not wanting to see what happened next. "Just... remember to use a silencing ward, okay? People'll hear if you don't."

"Okay. I'll see you when I get back to the Slytherin Common Room." Daphne said, without turning her head. "Come up with an excuse to tell Harry. I won't be long here."

"Right. Will do." Tracy bobbed her own head, not caring that Daphne could not see her. "Don't overdo it."

As Tracy left, she heard her friend say one more thing. "Now, hold still, and this will be over quickly."

Tracy could almost hear the wails of pain following her, and shuddered. She _really_ hoped that Daphne never got truly angry with her. It would rival Harry for scariness...

On second thought, no it wouldn't. Daphne was the second scariest person she'd ever met, but Harry... Harry stopped being a _person_ when he was angry. Was not even one of the animal forms.

Almost as though he became a devil.

-()-

When Daphne was finished, the boys were lying, spasming on the on the floor as she stood over them. Well, except for the first one. He was still shrieking without noise on the floor behind her. He'd probably be even more horrified when his genitals fell off. If only he'd had more magical power, or known the counter-curse, he would have come out mostly unscathed.

"Now, you're never going to badmouth my Harry again, are you?" She asked. They just barely managed to nod their heads. "That's right. And you're never going to tell on me, are you?" Another nod. "Good. If that's the case, I won't tell Harry that you tried to rape me. Oh, I know you didn't, but don't think for a moment that he'd take your word over mine." The boys knew who Daphne had gotten the runes from, and she moved onto the only boy that was still being tortured. With a sigh, she whispered the counter-curse, knowing that the boy would probably tell on her if he _lost_ his testicles.

"There you go. You should be mostly intact." She said, as he curled into the fetal position with what she imagined was a whimper. Her voice suddenly turned to ice. "If you tell anyone what happened here, they'll never find your body." Daphne turned on the spot. She hoped that some rumours would spread from this. Then, people would know what happened when they hurt her... friend. Or, indeed, spoke ill of him.

-()()-

As it turned out, Tracy need not have thought of an excuse, as Harry was not in the Common Room while this was occurring. What reason would he have to be in the Common Room when they were not present?

Instead, Harry was sat in his room, with a grimace on his face reflecting the pain that he had been inflicting on himself based on the belief that he'd need it in the future.

The floor next to his bed, there sat a simple wooden box with a pentagram marking it on the top. It was one of the few things he had retrieved from Lucifer's vault, and Harry's interest was truly piqued by it upon seeing the tools within. Was that his inheritance from the Lucifer household? It did not make much sense if it was, since his affinity for runes had been present since birth; he had not been able to write in English when he left the Potter Household, in fact. He had taught himself during his moments, as a runaway, in which he was human. Runes were ingrained into him, and so he had written in those instead.

It was baffling, then, that Lucifer's vault, the right to which Harry won by combat after mauling the Satyr that had been named Lucifer, would contain the materials that so effectively brand the runes into his skin. He looked at the claw that was currently strapped onto the ends of his index finger with a small scowl. Just because it was more effective to charge this with magical energy and engrave the runes than to cut the rune into his skin and then push his magic into the rune did not mean that it was any less _painful_.

Harry's hand lingered over his left pectoral, and he thanked all of the gods that he could name for the fact that he did not have to repeat the process again from the start as he cast as he glanced at the sound-rune that he had drawn onto his door and put the folded over piece of cloth into his mouth. Harry's teeth clamped down onto it as his heart rate increased at the knowledge of what was to come. That was not good; there would be enough blood as it was.

As the claw pierced the flesh over his heart, Harry's muffled screams tore through the room.

-()()-

**Okay, once again there is a reason that Harry was doing that. He's not into hurting himself, I promise. (I'm not condemning people that do, but I believe that it's a sign that their mental health can be questioned. I don't like talking about serious things!)**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	23. The Fifth Isn't Exactly a Task

**Okay, here's another chapter of Feral that ended up being a thousand words longer than I had predicted, as I changed the perspective at the end and found it surprisingly entertaining to write the last parts. Hopefully, that will translate to being fun to read, as well.**

**Is this chapter eventful? I'll let you decide that, but the next chapter will be the Sixth (3****rd****) task, which is the maze, and some information about what happens between the end of this chapter and that one. **

**Oh, and in response to a member of this site that, out of the blue, sent me a message saying that they did not understand why I have more follows and Favorites than other Authors, whom I won't mention because it will seem as though I hold a grudge against them, I would ask you to do me, and every other writer, the courtesy of not just saying that you dislike our fics in comparison to others, but giving a ****_reason_****for your dislike. It is not at all helpful to a writer to have a random person accuse you of being untalented, especially as criticism often stands out and there is no productive use for it when there is nothing specific critiqued.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. As I said, I expected this to be a short one, then I decided to include the last scene.**

**-()()()-**

Harry was glad that he had taken the time, weeks ago, to re-etch the runes into his skin. He was unsure whether the _potency_ of the abilities they shaped his magic into had increased, or if it was only the stability of the runes themselves, but Harry was thrilled at several effects he had noticed.

The first, he honestly did not know for sure existed. Harry had never heard anyone else mention the faint markings that had sometimes adorned his skin when he was in an area of intense magical activity, but even if it was only his own anxiety about being seen as he truly was, Harry was glad there was no risk of them showing even under extreme circumstances. Although... he had a feeling that there was one scenario that would reveal them to anybody that was present, but he only considered that scenario as a fail-safe for the war he felt sure would come. Besides, the person that cast the spell would not live to tell of Harry's appearance.

Another was the fact that he felt _uneasy. _Harry could not put his finger on it, but something made him think that bad things would happen soon. What they would be, he had no idea, but he had long since decided to trust his instincts. Animals could sometimes sense danger based off the subtlest change, after all. Whether or not this was true, Harry felt better, safer, knowing that he was as well-prepared as could be.

Plus, it did not hurt that one rune in particular, that which would give him a serious boost in energy, to reduce his fatigue by a great extent, would come in handy in this upcoming task. No matter how indifferent he was to being the Triwizard Champion, Harry was not fond of losing.

The reason that he would need this energy-drink-esque rune? Bagman had just told them that for the fifth task, they were to stay up through the night before the Final task; how this could be considered a challenge in and of itself, Harry did not know, in order to assess their ability to function even under the effects of tiredness. The potions they were to drink would prevent them from falling asleep, but would result in them having a crash moments before the maze-based task began. Harry frowned at the memory of the daunting, and sinister, looking maze that he had caught glimpse of the night before.

"And as the final portion of this, the Fifth Triwizard task, you will test your luck against each other. you will each draw a button, and on that button will be a number. That number indicates from which of the four entrances you will be entering the maze. Some are preferable to others, as I am sure you have deduced, else how would it matter which number you chose?" Bagman finished his explanation with a grin.

"Vill ve be avarded points based on our luck?" Krum asked, with a scowl. "Dat does not seem fair."

"No, no. Your points decided at which time you would enter the maze, and have already been finalised so that Mr Potter, Harry that is, will enter, followed by you, Mr Krum, and then Ms Delacour, and finally Mr Thomas Potter." Was it just Harry, or did Bagman sound irritated that Thomas would be last?

"Any other questions?" Bagman asked of the four.

"Yeah," Harry spoke up. "We're going into the maze, but how will the audience watch what is going on? Every other challenge has been a 'spectator sport'."

"Ah, a good question Mr Potter." Bagman nodded. "They will be unable to _see_ what you are doing, but they will be able to watch your progress thanks to a nifty piece of magic Auror Potter has provided. At the same time, the names of the obstacles have been written on the maps that will be used to keep track of you, and so there will be plenty of excitement while you are facing the dangers inside.

"Now, if that is all?" He wondered. "Okay, then. You all have some visitors that will be coming here shortly; they have been invited to watch the final task, and I am sure that you all miss your family." The two elder male champions nodded at his; Krum because he was very surly and harry because he wondered who would be coming, though he assumed Lord and Lady Greengrass, while Thomas grinned and Fleur smiled, though the smile was strained after what happened to Gabrielle last time. "I will see you all in the morning for the final task." With that, he left. The champions sat quietly for a moment, before Fleur turned to Harry.

"Do you 'ave any idea what zis 'nifty piece of magic' iz?" She asked. Krum looked over curiously, too, as he had been idly wondering the same.

"Yep. It's able to track, through a complex charm tacked onto one of the no longer functional wards of Hogwarts that allows the user to see a small dot representing each person on a map. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew used it while they were at school to get away with pranks. I assume that they have refined it as, while glitches are minimal, they have happened on occasion. Primarily, this is only a very slight time delay, but in this task that could make all the difference." Harry summarised the Marauders' map.

"Oh? 'Ow do you know so much about eet?" Fleur asked, curious. She knew that Harry did not get on with his family.

"I heard enough talk about it when I was still living with the Potters to know of its existence. During my earlier years in Hogwarts, I recreated it." Harry said.

"Why?" Krum, surprisingly, was the one to inquire this. "You do not seem like a prankster."

"To prove I could do anything that they could. To prove I was better than them, I suppose, since they had four minds to work on it, and I only had my own."

"And did you refine eet, too?" Fleur asked him.

"No. I didn't have any need for it."

"No need for it? It sounds like a very impressive piece of magic." Krum commented.

"My senses are better than most." Harry was saved from explaining this, as a silver-blonde blur suddenly rushed through the flap of the magically warmed magical tent they would be staying in today to prevent any of them from acquiring a pepper-up potion, or something of the sort. Aforementioned blur made a beeline for Harry and Fleur, sat next to each other, and flew at Harry, only giving the teen enough time to raise his arms to catch her once she pounced.

And pounce she did.

"'Arry!" Gabrielle exclaimed, as Harry grunted softly from the projectile, and then smiled down at the grinning small girl that was on top of him. "_I missed you!_"

"_And what about me, little sister?_" Fleur asked, with an amused smile that only grew as Gabrielle stuck her tongue out at the older Veela.

"_I missed you too, Angel._" Harry said, affectionately. The girl squealed, and hugged Harry tightly as she buried her face in his shoulder. Harry, at this point, nervously glanced at her knee, which was only a few inches from his crotch and decided not to risk it. With a quick lift, that inspired another happy shriek, Harry sat her on his lap instead; fortunately, the girl seemed content with this. As long as she was still commanding the majority of his attention, Fleur was sure that she would be happy.

"Angel?" Fleur asked Harry.

"After the angel Gabriel." Harry shrugged. "She seems to like it."

"_I am sure. It is a term of endearment, after all._" She swapped back to French at this point, and Harry followed.

"_And she is dear to me._" He smiled, just as Gabrielle became fed-up with not having Harry to speak to.

"_Papa bought you a present!_" The little Veela exclaimed, bringing looks of surprise from both Harry and Fleur.

"_Which one of us?_" Fleur asked her little sister.

"_Both of you!_" She answered. "_But he didn't want me to feel left out, so he gave me one too! Would you like to see?_" She asked Harry. The boy could not tell if the _very_ sudden change from enthused to shy was fake, but either way he knew what the answer would be. He had to say, children were far easier to understand than adults, as they did not have any of the conventions and unwritten rules that their parents did, especially in the Wizarding World, and so Harry found it far easier to communicate with them because of this, and not have to try to read subtext.

"_It's very pretty_," Harry smiled, as he examined the silver bracelet that sat on the girl's thin wrist. It was an intricate design, including a variety of precious stones that Harry did not care to learn the names of, though they included sapphires and emeralds, which he knew off the top of his head, that Harry had no problem admitting escaped him, but one thing he did notice was a, well hidden by the twirling pattern around it, small tracking charm. As Gabrielle beamed at the compliment, Harry asked again. "_Your father gave you this?_" He asked. The girl smiled, and happily nodded. Harry would wait and see whether Sebastian Delacour knew of the rune, and ask him why it was there if he did.

The opportunity to ask him was not hard to come by, as the adults entered the room. Gabrielle must have had a large head-start, and those that knew Harry, including the Potters, he was unhappy to note, smiled softly at seeing the usually gruff boy with the bundle of joy that was Gabrielle Delacour sat on his lap.

After greeting Andrew and Adelaide Greengrass, as well as Appoline Delacour, Harry pulled Sebastian Delacour aside to ask about the bracelets before he could forget or, as the case may be, lose the opportunity. Harry had no idea what the time frame was for the visiting family members. Leaving them here for too long could, potentially, cause problems such as the elders helping their children, so Harry assumed he did not have an excess of time to discuss the matter with Sebastian.

"_Did you commission the bracelet Gabrielle is wearing to be made_?" Harry asked, without preamble, as soon as he and the Lord of House Delacour were out of the vicinity of any of the others, though he noted that Fleur was looking suspiciously over at the pair.

"_I did_." The older man confirmed.

"_And did you ask for the tracking rune to be included_?"

"_Yes_," Sebastian smiled ever so slightly at Harry's attentiveness, and continued. "_My eyes were opened by the last task. While it was supposedly safe, I will not risk either of my daughters' safety again if I can help it._" He said, with determination.

"_That's good to hear, then_," Harry agreed that it was a good idea. "_I would hate to see either of them in danger. But_," Harry scratched the back of his head. "_Why are you intending to give me one of them_?"

"_Ah_..." Sebastian's features took on a hint of nervousness. "_I was expecting to broach this subject myself, but... I may not always be able to respond if they are in danger, and you have shown yourself to be capable, as capable as anyone I have met, of protecting them, as well as being very willing to do so."_

"_And the tacking rune, and whatever charms have been weaved in alongside it, allows people wearing bracelets to locate each other._" Harry assumed. "_I will be glad to wear it, then."_

"_I must admit I expected you to dislike the notion of a bracelet._" Sebastian commented. "_Men typically dislike the idea of jewelry, after all."_

"_I would not wear it by choice, but I am not adverse to it as long as it is not overly eye-catching. I hope that you will not be insulted if I change the colour to black?"_

Sebastian chuckled lightly at the coincidence. "_Actually, I made the assumption that you would not be willing to wear silver or gold,_" He reached into his pocket, and produced a bracelet, the colour of obsidian, that he held out to Harry. The teen took it, and examined the intricate pattern of serpents that it the black metal made. "_An alloy. I chose the design because Fleur mentioned that your house was represented by snakes._"

"_Thank you_." Harry said. He imagined that the Delacour sisters would include hugs in their expressions of gratitude, but neither he nor Sebastian would be comfortable with that.

"_You're welcome._" Sebastian patted Harry on the shoulder, and continued. "_Now, let us get back to the others before one of my daughters manages to kill me with their glares._" He grinned at the teen, and Harry nodded with his own smile, beginning to believe that maybe Fleur's father was actually warming up to him.

-()()-

Hogwarts had a feeling of unease about it as three girls made their way to the grounds with unhappy expressions on their faces as they contemplated their next course of action. Because of this cause, they did not give any thought to the uncomfortable feeling that each shared, sat in the pit of their stomachs.

This was the difference between they three and Daphne, Jasmine realised with mixed emotion. Mixed because, while she wished she had the guts to be as ruthless as Daphne, she did not like the idea of being so cold-hearted and, quite frankly, scary. As she glanced at Tracy's deep frown, and listened to the infuriated grumblings of Caroline, Jasmine wondered if it was a bad thing for her to put herself, and her own peace of mind, above the outrage that all three shared after hearing the conversation that they had just overheard between Karkaroff and Crouch, though Crouch's opinions had been expressed in a strange way.

"It goes to show that the Half-breeds hold so little intelligence, that Maxine thought her Veela could stand up against Krum." Karkaroff had expressed, clearly in reference to the last task, and the fact that Fleur had done rather badly in it. "Humans do not have the same weaknesses that those abominations do." He said, merrily.

"They do not. Veelas are all too easily killed when in an environment such as water. Their affinity for flame can be exploited, even if it sometimes allows them to catch non-veela off guard because the wizard assumes they are only creatures of beauty." It sounded almost as though the Ministry official was speaking from experience.

"Yes, I imagine they would be," Karkaroff agreed, before turning the conversation back to what he wished to discuss. "But I must say that I am glad she was dumb enough to put the Veela in the contest, else what would we do now? We could not design an entire half of the maze in that manner, else some of them would get through whatever wards were put up. It will be easy enough to put the Delacour girl up against enemies that will keep her busy, while Mr Potter has a hard time of it."

"One of the Mister Potters," Crouch reminded him.

"Yes, yes," Karkaroff nodded impatiently. "But the other hardly matters, does he? Such an ordinary person is hardly important to either of us."

"Hardly." Crouch nodded in agreement.

"I do have a question, how are you ensuring that the Champions select certain counters? Surely it is not simple to predict which they will draw." Karkaroff did not sound nervous; more like he was double-checking.

"It is easy. The counters are not numbered. When they sense which chapion draws them out of the bag, the number will appear. Bagman, the fool, was easy to compel not to look inside the bag he has been entrusted with."

"He is a fool, indeed." Igor sounded amused by that fact. "And we stand to profit greatly from the fact that they trusted such a fool, do we not, my friend?"

"We certainly do." Jasmine could _swear_ that the happiness in Crouch's tone was fake. She did not know why, but it was nagging her that he did not feel any actually joy in the subject we were discussing.

"You mentioned something about your wife being ill?" Karkaroff asked of the ministry official. "Will that be what you spend yours on?"

"I am not limited to only that," Crouch stated, and the apathy under his tone was clearer, from Jasmine's perspective. She _knew_ that he was lying. "I bet a very large sum on _your man_ to win." Was there subtext there? "And what do you intend to do with yours?"

"Ah..." Karkaroff sounded nervous, to the Sixth Year Ravenclaw. "I was thinking about an early retirement." He said, uncertainly.

"Oh? Where will you go?" Crouch wondered. Now he _was_ interested. "I hear that the Portugese community is welcoming to those who wish to have a... private retirement, and who want to avoid being bothered. For a small fee, I can put you in touch with someone who will help you get _settled_ without prying eyes knowing about it." He was lying, somehow, but Karkaroff did not notice that any more than the undertones anything else his apparent friend had said.

"Really?" And Karkaroff sounded overjoyed, though he was trying to keep it subdued enough to be subtle. "That would be much appreciated. What cost are we talking here?"  
>"An insignificant sum, really," Crouch shrugged. "Galleons are worth more over there. It will cost you fifteen hundred for an ordinary house, 2000 for a nice house. or 3000 for a <em>very <em>nice house. By selling any property you have here, I have no doubt that you will be able to cover three-thousand fifty times over, and that is not taking into consideration the winnings you receive after our respective wagers are done."

"I would very much appreciate it if you could give me this contact then, my friend. As soon as possible, I would ask."

"Of course. If you follow me to the room I stayed in last night, to help ensure everything is _ready_ for the final task, I can give you it immediately," He hesitated for only a second, but Jasmine heard it from her place behind the tapestry, where the three had ducked. "My _friend_." How did the Durmstrang Headmaster not hear the insincerity? The _disgust_?" Jasmine would never know.

After the Headmaster and Ministry official left, the three friends snuck out of their hiding place, equal measures of disgust on each of their faces, and began to make their way down to the Quiddich Pitch, each of them wondering whether they could find a way to get the message across to harry and, preferably, also Fleur. Even if they were rather unhappy with the fact that they had been together all night, the three were satisfied by the fact that Krum and Thomas were there, also.

As they neared the stadium, Caroline finally voice one of the things in that conversation that contributed to her outrage. "How _dare_ they call Harry ordinary?"

Down at the stadium, having left early with a hasty explanation that she wanted to wish Harry luck in the task, and a very intentional lack of invitation, to Tracy, Daphne was having an, if anything, more eventful time than her friends.

-()()()-

The blonde, violet eyed girl was stood in the shadows with barely-restrained impatience as people began to arrive in the stadium that surrounded the bush-maze that the Champions would be entering soon enough, according to Harry's retelling of the first time they were shown the maze a couple of weeks after Daphne's run in with the Ravenclaws. She was waiting, her face the mask of apathy a Pureblood was taught to perfect, for Harry to leave the magical tent.

The girl had thought, long and hard, on whether this course of action was correct but she, like Harry and the others, had a _feeling_ that something was coming; some great change that would affect her dearly, and was not able to ignore it. She, unlike Tracy, Caroline and Jasmine had had not been able to dismiss it the night before because she was up all night, on edge at the thought of Harry and Fleur alone in the tent together for hours; she forgot that the other Champions would be with them, and was therefore alone with naught but her thoughts for company.

Because of this feeling, Daphne's sleep-deprived mind had convinced the more rational parts of her that Harry's life was at risk. No matter how illogical the fear was, it had taken a hold of the normally cold girl, inspired a significant amount of fear in her, and given her the kick up the bum she had needed to _act_. She had no idea how Harry would react, nor how her father, friends, Fleur and the French girl's family would respond, but this was not something that she would ignore any longer because she was worried about what _other people_ would say. This was something _she_ needed, no matter what came next, and that she would never forgive herself for, even if she lived for an eternity with Harry in the next great adventure, not doing while Harry was still here to reciprocate.

And so, as Harry stepped out of the tent along with the other three champions and Ludo Bagman, who was holding a small sack, Daphne stepped away from the shadowed area she had been lingering in, and made a beeline for Harry, while her hands shook at her sides. As she neared, and time slowed to a crawl as her pulse quickened, Daphne was annoyed to note that her parents were in the crowd, and that they would no doubt insist on having a conversation with her about all of this. She pushed the thought out of her mind, and focused on Harry.

"Daph?" Harry asked, as she neared, a confused expression on his face. "Is everything okay?" His eyes ran over her form and radiated concern. "You're shaking."

Daphne did not answer, as she drew level with him, and placed a hand on Harry's chest to stop him from moving. She placed her hands on either side of the teen's face, and Harry blinked.

"Uhm... w-what're you..." Harry did not finish the nervously-asked question, as Daphne took a deep, steadying breath. "A-Are you..." Again, Harry trailed off. Daphne idly noted that she found it cute that, unlike every other area, this was something that could make him blush, as Harry's cheeks gained a hint of pink.

Daphne stood on her tip-toes, and pressed her soft lips against Harry's

The black haired teen froze, and Daphne imagined that, if she had her eyes open, she would see his emerald eyes widen almost comically as she pressed herself against him. Maybe he flailed his hands for a moment, too, before they drifted to her sides in an awkward fashion. And maybe, Daphne would later think, they would have sank into a more comfortable state had a certain Veela not chosen this time to grab Daphne by the shoulder and tear her away from Harry, leaving Harry stood slightly hunched over and blinking, very much surprised at what had just happened.

For all of Albus Dumbledore's talents, and they were many as he would admit with a humble smile, he did not seem to speak the dialect that the two girls stood in front of young Harry were currently conversing in, which was strange, he remarked to himself with a twinkle in his eyes, since he was fluent in French, and that was the language they were using.

For example, he had heard Miss Delacour inquire, to Miss Greengrass, how she dared to kiss Harry, and Miss Greengrass' reply that she had known him for years, and had more of a right to doing so than Miss Delacour ever could was understandable from Albus' point of view. Miss Delacour's reply explaining, at an admittedly unnecessarily high volume, that Harry was her fiance had made sense, also, but that was followed by the term that Dumbledore was unfamiliar with, and that angered Miss Greengrass for some reason. Presumably, it was some form of insult.

Miss Greengrass had requested that Miss Delacour not be an interfering something, and followed that up by saying that it was not any of Miss Delacour's business what Harry did. Miss Delacour had scoffed at this, and used another term that Albus was not familiar with before Miss Greengrass continued her line of argument while ignoring whatever insult this had been. She had said that Harry did not deserve to be condemned to a life with such a something, who had probably slept with an unspecified quantity of other boys before because she was a Veela something. Miss Delacour had bristled at this, and denied it, quite clearly stating that she had never so much as kissed someone; Miss Greengrass had expressed her disbelief, and Miss Delacour had insisted, to young Harry, who was watching with an expression of worry and confusion, that she was telling the truth; imploring him to believe her.

Miss Greengrass had asked why Mr Potter should believe anything that came out of Miss Delacour's mouth, as she was condemning him to a miserable life and a loveless marriage. Miss Delacour had become visibly distraught at the suggestion, and had denied that that was what was happening, insisting that she would never have forced Harry into any such scenario. Then, panic-stricken, she had assured Harry that she was glad that her fiance had been someone as wonderful as he. Miss Greengrass had wondered how Miss Delacour would know anything of Harry, since she had not made any effort to get to know him over the course of the year. Miss Delacour had responded by saying that Miss Greengrass had hardly been a good friend to him herself, and that she had been a something over the course of the year, ignoring Harry because she was frustrated by the fact that she would not be the one that he married. She had followed this up by calling her a terrible friend, and saying that Miss Greengrass did not care for Harry in the slightest.

At this point, Miss Greengrass was fuming, and had lunged forwards with her hand drawn back to strike Miss Delacour across the face. She succeeded, with a slap, and Albus had stood to intervene before the situation escalated, only to find that the other three girls that were frequently in Harry's company had pulled her away, while berating her in English for being so hot tempered and, if Albus' hearing did not mistake him, for kissing him in the first place. The Headmaster had believed he heard a tone of jealousy in their voices, but did not have time to wonder on it as he had noticed the look of fury on Miss Delacour's face being replaced by a look of vindictive malevolence. She had smirked at Miss Greengrass, and taken Harry's face in her hands much like her apparent enemy before her. Harry's eyes had widened, again, in the moments before the French girl leant forwards and captured his lips in hers.

When she had drawn back from the somewhat longer kiss, forced by an instinct telling her that danger was imminent, Miss Greengrass had broken free, by elbowing Miss Davis in the face, and had her wand raised. Albus had no doubt that she would have cursed Miss Delacour had the younger Miss Greengrass not leapt on her, and tackled her to the ground while yelling at her that the fiasco was a bad idea, and that Miss Delacour being seriously injured immediately before a task could result in the elder Miss Greengrass being expelled. Albus knew this to be true, as it was a rule that remained from the earlier tournaments; it could endanger the champion's life if they were crippled before one of the more deadly tasks. The younger Miss Greengrass had insisted that Miss Delacour was not worth it, and the elder Miss Delacour had relented, with a promise that the confrontation was not over, and had stormed off.

As Mr Potter's other friends followed the two Miss Greengrasses into the stands towards their parents, and young Harry had stood frozen on the spot with an expression that showed how utterly baffled he was, Albus had begun to formulate a plan on how to save the young man from the potentially dark path he was treading. Albus did firmly believe in the power of love, after all.


	24. The Maze

**Okay, here's another chapter of Feral. I'm on a Feral-kick at the moment, and so am posting a rather long one before updating my others, one of which is giving me trouble at the moment.**

**If Harry seems to be recovering from the smooching of the last chapter, rest assured he is not. He is putting it out of his mind and focusing on the shit that's going down in the present. When he sees them, he'll get to being freaked out and confused about it all, but there's no stimuli at the moment (or he has their well-being on his mind instead of their affections for him). I assure you, he's not going to take it well, and is not underestimating the seriousness of ****_that stuff_****. This is hopefully shown by the beginning, but I wanted to emphasise the point.**

**Not much else to say here that I can think of at the moment. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and let me know through Favs, Follows and Reviews.**

**Oh, and I like riddles. They was to show that the challenges Harry was facing were unreasonably difficult, and because I went a little overboard after running out of riddles I knew off the top of my head. I decided to research them, and had fun doing it.**

**-()()()-**

How did Harry get here? The teen in question wondered as he stared at the gap in the hedge in front of him, waiting for the first gunshot that would signal his turn to enter.

He glanced at the counter in his hand with the number 3 drawn on in bold black ink. He could vaguely remember reaching into the small woven sack and retrieving the counter. Then, Krum did the same followed by Fleur and lastly Thomas. Harry had been directed over to this side of the maze, and must have made his way over. And, yet, Harry could only barely remember moving; like a haze had been set over his eyes as he wandered over to the starting position.

Now, he shook his head in a futile effort to understand what had just happened. He had... He had been _kissed_! Twice! What the hell?!

"Why would they choose _now_ to do that?" He hissed to himself. "An why the hall would they do that in the first place?" He scowled, and then chuckled to the air around him a few seconds later. "Oh, right... fiance, and all that." But, still, surely Fleur could have come up with a better time to kiss Harry for the first time than _now_, and Daphne... well, that just confused Harry. She had been pulling away from him for the majority of the year; sure, they were seemingly growing closer again now, but this was... confusing.

Yep. That was the best way to describe Harry's current state.

Confused.

For Daphne to kiss him like that... she must be... she must have an interest in him, right? Harry could not think of another reason to do that; as strained as the relationship between Daphne and Fleur, he did not believe that she would have kissed him only for the sake of annoying Fleur, and so Daphne must have hold affections for him. Had she show that earlier in his life? Had he missed it, and hurt her with his density?

Ugh. This was giving him a headache, and he longed for a distraction.

And, so, he was for the first time _glad_ to hear Ludo Bagman's annoying voice, as it gave him something else to focus on.

"Now that the champions are all in position, we're ready to begin! The object of this task is simple, to find the TriWizard Cup! It is located in the centre of the maze, and is marked on the maps that have been distributed to the audience so that you can see the champions as they make their progress towards victory! I am sure that you will all agree that this is the perfect way to finish such an exciting tournament! I and all of the judges hope that you will show your support for the champion of your choice, to help them make their way through the challenges ahead!"

Harry drew his wand, assuming that his signal would come soon, and focused on the darkness between the two hedges in front of him. He idly wondered, as Bagman began to speak again, what the first obstacle would be that he encountered.

"The first entrant will be Mr Harry Potter, of Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Bagman exclaimed. "The challenge will begin upon the sound of a cannon-shot; four will be heard telling each champion to enter, in the order of Mr Potter, Mr Krum, Ms Delacour and lastly the younger Mr Potter!" Harry could almost see Thomas gritting his teeth at that fact, and would have smiled if he was not trying to suppress whatever emotions he could for the time being.

Then, the gunshot sounded and Harry darted forwards into the maze. He was quickly consumed by the darkness, and the people behind him witnessed the hole in the hedge slam shut, trapping him in the dangerous arena with untold dangers. Well, untold to him. Those that were sat behind him had long since noticed that his quarter of the maze was far more filled with obstacles than those of the others. Was his luck just that terrible?

-()()()()()-

After Krum's gunshot, Harry's dot moved quickly, as Tracy held the map in her hands while frowning down at the material. She noticed her expression being mirrored on the faces of Jasmine and Caroline, and addressed the source of her unhappiness who just so happened to be sat next to her with a scowl marring her beautiful face and her arms crossed across her chest.

"That was a real bitch-move, Daph." She hissed.

Daphne's cold violet eyes flicked to Tracy's warm brown, and the girl simply grunted her acknowledgement.

"Especially _now_. How focused do you think Harry'll be during this challenge after you kissed him out of the blue like that? And what in Merlin's name did you aim to achieve by doing it in front of the entire bloody school?"

"After that, when Harry wins, word'll get to that Reeta Skeeter woman and she'll end up spreading gossip about him being unfaithful. How will that help anyone?" Caroline weighed in. "It's just going to mess up Harry's life to have the public attention on him."

"Harry won't care what the public thinks about him." Daphne contradicted. "And their attention will be on him anyway if he wins." She scowled at the others, as she glanced at the map. "Don't be pissed at me just because I took the initiative and you're jealous."

"That's not-"

"Oh look, Harry's at his first obstacle!" Daphne interrupted Tracy, who had begun to deny the accusation. It was an effective distraction as the other three turned to see what Harry would first be facing.

"A sphinx?"

-()()-

Harry was not thrilled that this was the first obstacle he'd be facing. He did not think that fighting it would be a good idea, since magical animals usually had unnatural levels of endurance. Harry would probably be able to beat it, and would take that approach had he not needed to face Merlin-knows how many other obstacles in the immediate future.

"Greetings, Human." The human-woman-faced lion began.

"Greetings, Sphinx." Harry dipped his head to show respect to the no-doubt prideful being. "Am I to fight you today?" He asked; if the answer was yes, it was inevitable that they come to blows.

"That depends," The Sphinx tilted its head as it observed Harry, as if judging him. "On whether you are able to impress me."

"And how will I go about impressing you?"

"By answering my riddles, of course."

"'Of course'?" Was that a part of their mythos, then? "Okay, and how many riddles do I have to solve?"

The sphinx simply smirked, and began. "What walks on four legs in the morning, on two legs in at noon and three legs at night?"

Harry knew this off the top of his head. "A human. As a baby, we crawl. As an adult, we stand upright. At the end of our lives we support ourselves with a cane. That one was not difficult, but you did not answer how many I would have to solve."

Again, Harry was ignored. "I have a bed but cannot sleep. I have a mouth but never eat. I have no legs but forever run. What am I?"

After a second of thought, Harry answered. "A river, but-"

"What breaks as soon as you say its name?"

Again, Harry only paused for a moment. "Silence. How many d-"

"Poor people have me. Rich people need me. If you eat me, you die. What am I?"

Another moment of thought. "Nothing. You haven-"

"If I drink, I die. I must eat to survive. What am I?"

Harry was scowling by this point. "Fire. How many-"

"If I have it, I keep it. If I share it, I no longer have it. What is it?"

"A secret." Harry gave up on asking as a gunshot sounded off to his left.

"When young, I am tall. When old I am short. What am I?"

"A candle." Harry sighed. "Look. If you're just going to keep asking me until I slip up, please tell me now. I'd rather just fight."

The Sphinx appeared contemplative for a moment. "What asks but never answers?"

This one took Harry a little while longer to solve, but there was still very little difficulty. "An owl."

"Very well, people rarely answer so well. I will move onto more complex riddles, and see if you are worthy of being allowed to pass.

"First, think of a person who lives in disguise, who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies." A spy. "Next, tell me what's the last thing to mend. The middle of middle and end of the end?" The letter D? "And finally give me the sound often heard during the search of a hard-to-find word." Er. "Now string me together and answer me this, what creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"

As Harry made to answer, he swayed on his feet, and stifled a yawn. Apparently, the all-nighter was now catching up to him; whatever potion they had given Harry was wearing off. This was probably the best time to happen, as the Sphinx was not rushing him to answer.

"A sp-spider." Harry yawned again. He rubbed his eyes, and then moved his hand to the outside of his thigh. Through his trousers, a complex pattern shone letting him know that the rune that would effectively restore his cognitive capabilities in time to hear the next riddle.

"Huh. Okay, then.

"There is a story that a man and not a man saw and did not see a bird and not a bird perched on a branch and not a branch and hit him and did not hit him with a rock and not a rock." She left it at that, and Harry's brow furrowed in thought.

A man and not a man... a transvestite? No. No, a eunuch.

Saw and did not see... he had bad eyesight, then, but was not blind.

A bird and not a bird... so, something that may be mistaken for a bird? Something winged... a bat!

Perched on a branch and not a branch... something like a branch... a plant? A reed?

He missed but thought he hit?

A rock and not a rock... that was a more difficult thought. Petrified wood or something? Pumice?

"A eunuch with poor eyesight saw a bat perched on a reed and threw a pumice stone at it. He missed."

"Yes..." The sphinx narrowed her eyes. "You are beginning to impress me.

"We hut without moving. We poison without touching. We bear truth and lies. We are not to be judged by our size. What are we.

"Hmm... you are words." Harry answered, after half a minute's thought.

"Five hundred is at my end and my start, yet five is at my heart. The the first letter and the first number make me complete. My name is that of a king. What am I?"

At this, Harry paused, baffled. "...I have no idea." He answered, with his eyebrows raised.

"David." The Sphinx answered. "Apologies, it is cheating if the person speaking does not know Roman numerals, but I will now have to kill you." She seemed conflicted.

"I did not impress you?" Harry wondered.

"You did, but I was told to ask until you failed, and am compelled to kill you for failing to answer me correctly."

"Compelled by who?" Harry asked.

"That is something I cannot answer." The Sphinx shook her head.

"So we're going to fight?" Harry inquired, as he prepared to shift.

"I..." She was definitely conflicted between her own wants and what she had been ordered to do. "If you answer this final riddle, I will let you proceed safely.

"What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?"

Harry's eyebrows raised. "Quoting Shakespeare? The answer is the gravedigger, for his houses will last until Doomsday."

"Correct," The Sphinx smiled for the first time. "I will not attack you, young Wizard. I wish you the best of luck."

The fourth gunshot sounded.

Who would have thought that that would be one of the easiest obstacles? Harry certainly didn't, as he ran past the lion-woman deeper into the maze.

Harry was also unaware of the fact that, on the other side of the hedge he ran past, stood a death eater who had sacrificed half of his vision to fulfil his mission, and had a magical eye much the same as Moody's sat in his socket.

-()()()-

"Huh," Jasmine said, in a confused tone. "I wonder why Krum's heading for Harry."

"Maybe he got lost," Caroline muttered. "I'm more worried about Fleur. Why's she just suddenly stopped nowhere near an obstacle?"

"She was near to the centre of the maze; if she's hurt one of the others will find her once they get there, or maybe the map's glitching. That would explain why they've crowded around the original." Tracy suggested, nodding to the judges who had gathered in a circle, with Aurors Potter and Black, around the map that all the others were copies of.

"Father?" Daphne, ignoring the others' conversation in favour of watching Harry's dot slow somewhat as it neared the next obstacle. Her father, too, had noticed that something was bothering the judges, and so had stood.

"I am going to ask what's wrong," Andrew said, with a frown. He did not continue his sentence, as he did not want to express the slight concern that Harry might be in danger.

"Skrewts." Astoria's voice reached the others, and they glanced at the map to find Harry approaching this label. The fact that it said Blast ended Skrewts, as in plural, was worrying.

-()()()-

"Oh, shit..." Harry said, to the darkness around him, as the large, armoured half-manticore half-fire-crab animals turned their attention to him. "That's a lot of Skrewts... how the hell did Hagrid get them to be good for long enough not to kill each other?" That had been a serious issue for the Care of Magical Creatures professor, as Hagrid had told the Sixth Year class.

Harry did not have time to find out how they had been civilised towards each other, as the hybrid creatures began their approach with hissing and clicking noises. He would need to deal with them before theyw ere in _blasting_ distance. It looked that two were females, with their suckers, and four were male with stingers. That made little difference, however, as, with a bang, one of them blasted itself forwards. Harry knew that they had unarmoured undersides, but there was no way to capitalise on that weakness in his current position.

With a curse and a wave of his wand, a wall of rock rose from the ground in front of Harry and the creature slammed into it, unable to stop its propulsion mid-flight. The wall shattered at this, and Harry transfigured the larger fragments into a trio of Rottweilers. With another flick of his wand, the dogs went after the disoriented Skrewt. They inspired an ounce of panic in the creature, and Harry's wand flashed.

"_Reducto_!" The spell took a chunk out of the Skrewt, and it fell to the floor twitching. Harry jabbed his wand at the near-dead creature, and it lifted into the air and was launched at its brethren. "Sick 'em!" Harry barked at the dogs that were now stood growling at the living creatures. Without a seconds hesitation, the hounds charged the Skrewts as the shell of the first crashed into the pack.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry shrugged. "_Flippendo_!" He yelled the first year spell, and the Skrewt it connected with was flipped onto its back. One of the Rottweilers leapt onto the underbelly and bit into the stomach with a snarl. Harry left it to its killing, and used the spell again.

"_Diffindo_!" A large gash cut through the underbelly of a third creature, as the other two dogs attempted to fight a fourth. They failed, and were incinerated with a blast of fire. The creature turned to find Harry swishing and flicking his wand. The creature was pulled into the air by a levitation charm, and Harry gritted his teeth as he supported the weight with his magic. He moved it quickly and dropped it onto the fifth of the animals. Evidently, this was all that it took for the Skrewts to turn on each other. They clawed at each other, and attempted to burn their fellow only to find themselves evenly matched.

Harry had lost track of the final Skrewt. He found out where it was as the shirt on his back burst into fire, and he cried out in pain. Harry stumbled forwards, and fell to his knees, clawing at the material that had been melted and was now joined to his back. Scraping up his wand, Harry sprayed water over his back and vanished the shirt, only to find himself being thrown into the hedge to his left as a pincer slammed into his side. The teen snarled as his injured back scraped against the twigs and he raised his wand in time to cast a flame-freezing charm on the next burst of fire. He then hit the Skrewt with an over-powered banisher and it was thrown backwards. In mid air, a blasting curse caught it in the stomach, and Harry gasped as it exploded and he pulled himself out of the greenery.

"How the fuck did it get behind me?" He wondered, with a growl. He shook his head, and turned to find the majority of the Skrewts were dead, excluding the two that had turned on each other, who were still just about alive. He soon changed that, by aiming his wand at areas in which they had had hunks of their armour torn from their body.

"_Defodio_." Harry muttered twice, and the creatures died at the end of the gouging charms. Then, he moved his hand to his arm and began the slow process of healing his half-melted back with a hiss of pain.

He had to move before he was fully healed, lest he give the others a head start.

-()-

Thomas Potter was growing frustrated, as he tried to navigate through the maze. Five times he'd hit a dead end! Five! Was it constantly changing, or something?

As he found a path that felt promising, he slowed and narrowed his eyes at the golden mist in front of him.

-()-

Fleur Delacour had been in first place, well on her way to winning as she quickly moved towards the centre of the maze. She had only met a select few creatures, and had suffered no injuries greater than a sprained ankle, right until she was blindsided.

Now, she was lying on the floor with the bone of her left calf prominent under the skin as it stuck out at an angle.

The Death Eater had only spent a second on her; knowing that Krum would be the better option to attack the greater threat, and had quickly moved to Harry's position, wanting to watch his design unfold.

-()-

Krum moved, eyes glazed, through the maze unbothered by the occupants. He was being directed by a friendly, reassuring voice in his head and, later, would berate himself for believing that it would be enjoyable to cast the cruciatus curse on Harry Potter.

He was nearing the designated position, and Krum raised his wand without emotion and laid in wait.

-()-

"A Boggart." Tracy observed that this was the next obstacle in Harry's path, followed closely by a charm that she did not recognise. "Do you know what Harry's Boggart was?" She asked, with a frown.

"No. I don't think that he faced a Boggart." Daphne answered, in reference to their Fifth Year, in which the teacher found one of the creatures. They should have had it the year before, but Lockhart had been a god-awful teacher. "He just hung at the back of the classroom."

"I wonder what it would be..."

-()()-

Harry Potter knelt next to a small, broken figure, and his shoulders shook. At first glance, the shaking shoulders would indicate sadness. That he was weeping. But the watching, black haired teen was fairly certain that this was not the case

His conformation was provided upon hearing a quiet chuckle come from the kneeling Harry Potter as his hands raised to the sides of his head, and were revealed to be coated in blood; the crimson liquid running down his forearms as his hands clutched his scalp and his laughter increased in volume.

Harry backed off, as he watched his clone tilt his head to look up at him with a feral grin on his face. The inverted eye on the kneeling Harry's chest, which was just as bare as that of the standing's, shone and flickered. Then, the rest of the runes came into existence. Every inch of his body was suddenly covered in the symbols, half of them seeming to be no more than criss-crossing lines, some curved and others straight, while others managed to form some meagre representation of what they did.

Harry's eyes found the anchor-shaped rune on his clone's left pectoral, and his eyes widened with fear. Then, they tickled as his gaze moved to the small, broken girl that him-but-not-him had killed, and Harry's own lips curled back into a snarl.

Gabrielle...

His clone was on his feet, and lunged forwards with intent to kill. And Harry knew that it was a boggart.

The thing was feeding off his own fear, but it did not have his powers. If Harry was afraid of one of his forms in this state, then it would turn to a Sabretooth cat, or a Direwolf. But he wasn't. Those represented his animal-nature. He was not afraid of his bestial nature, he was afraid of it being fuelled by his humanity. For his sanity to snap, and for the hate that he had felt as a child to take its place.

If he was to snap, then he could be as bad as the Dark Lord but why would his anger be directed at Gabrielle? She had never inspired his anger; Harry loved her like he imagined one would love a younger sibling. It would be more likely that he would be put into _this state_ by someone hurting Gabrielle and the others he cared for, and removing what little reason he had to hold onto his sanity.

The Boggart was about to learn this.

Harry lunged forwards, at his clone, and the Boggart displayed no signs of fear at Harry's growl. The two met, and Harry's fist met not-Harry's temple and the clone was thrown to the floor. It was back on its feet in a moment, and found a wand inches from its face.

"_Reducto!_" Harry barked, and the head was blasted from his clone's shoulders. It was a shapeshifter, though, and so recovered from even this injury by turning into a shadow and then turned back to not-Harry in a swirl of shadow. The Boggart found a pair of hands wrapping around its throat, and moved its hands up to claw at Harry's eyes. Harry shoved it away, and caught its hand, pushing power into a rune that sat there. He used the rune in a very different method to that he had originally intended on choosing the palm of his hand, as the meaning of _stick_ was, this time, to force the Boggart to _stick_ in this form, and have the vulnerabilities of a human.

Harry was afraid of his feral-nature, not of his magical ability or of his humanity, including his intelligence, and so the not-Harry did not have a wand to defend himself. Nor did it have the common-sense to know what was coming as Harry pointed his wand at its throat.

"_Diffindo_." The clone's throat was slashed, and Harry was left, breathing heavily, with a dying man and a dead girl. He moved to the form of Gabrielle, with some slight panic colouring his thoughts.

It was not her, but... well, she was there and Harry couldn't hep but see the dead form of the girl he was rapidly growing unbelievably protective of. Harry ran a hand through his hair as he stared down at her, and tried to think of something that would make him laugh. He could not, from Gabrielle's form, and so he turned back to his clone. It was unconscious from the blood loss by now, and Harry knelt next to him with a picture in mind. He deactivated the rune, and lifted his wand.

"_Riddikulus._" He whispered, and the shapeshifter's form shifted. Harry focused on his wolf-form, forcing a transformation as _he _could see the connection_,_ and chuckled as it began to chase its tail. Evidently, the Boggart was weak enough that this finished it off and Harry continued on his way. He'd need to see Gabrielle to properly reassure himself that she was fine; he'd have to finish this task first, though.

-()()-

"That took him some time." Daphne commented. "He must be fine, though, or he wouldn't be continuing." She reassured herself.

"He wouldn't have just forgotten the spell, though..." Tracy said, worried. "It must have affected him quite badly."

-()()-

A massive, black wolf howled its victory as it stood over the dead form of an ancromantula with blood staining the hair around its maw. This noise sent the four that had managed to escape the canine's fury scuttling away even faster, readily abandoning their fellows in a second to avoid death-by-Harry.

The wolf growled at the shadows in an all-encompasing warning as he sniffed at the air. If anything was nearby, he could not smell it, but his hackles were raised. His mind was heavily influenced by his inner-animal, or one of them, as all animagi were when in their animal forms, and so Harry trusted his instincts implicitly at this point.

He stalked forwards, deeper into the maze, and the rumbling in his chest continued to spike every few minutes as he searched out another danger. After close to twenty minutes, Harry found nothing.

That was a bad omen, surely.

Harry knew it was a strange thought process, to be alarmed that nothing was trying to kill him at the moment, but his instincts were screaming at him that this meant danger. Perhaps it meant that he was being stalked, or perhaps there was something lying in wait. Maybe whatever obstacles he was nearing had grouped together to properly take him by surprise, or maybe it was that Harry had somehow gotten turned around and was now back where he met the Sphinx.

Maybe, as a wolf, he was missing something. With that in mind, Harry turned back to a human and cracked his neck. Thankfully, his transformation had not been, for lack of a better word, _explosive_ and so he had clothing on his lower body. It was an odd side difference between he and others, presumably a side effect of learning how to shift himself, that his transformations tore his clothes to shreds when he was in a more primal mindset.

Harry smirked, noting that he was correct to transform, and drew his wand. "_Homenum Revelio._" He said, with a quick wave of his wand.

Two swear words, one in English and the other in a harsher tongue, sounded from the immediate vicinity. Harry spun, and cast a shield charm between he and the others. One spell splashed against it, but Harry did not count on Unforgiveables being used.

"_Crucio_!" Krum, by the sounds of it, yelled.

Harry fell to the ground, shuddering, and his teeth closed around his lower lip at the sudden onset of pain. His screams were muffled, but loud in the silence around him. Blood poured down Harry's chin as he forced his eyes open and tried to see through the haze of pain. The pain-curse was agonising, but Harry had felt similar sensations before; as a child. His wand had fallen from his grip, but Harry managed to raise his right hand with his fingers splayed.

No spells came to his mind when he was so lacking in focus, and Harry allowed his magic to flare violently on instinct. It had the effect of a banisher, as Krum was hit in the chest by a tendril of sapphire magic, and the Bulgarian was thrown backwards. Harry felt the blanket of pain lift, and his thoughts scrambled for a spell to use.

He wasn't fast enough. The Death Eater, on the other hand, was fast enough and another curse was quick incoming.

"_Avada Kedav-arg_!" He began, and was interrupted suddenly.

"_Stupefy_!" Krum was faster to recover than Harry, but that made sense given that he had not been tortured. The Death Eater crumpled, and Krum slowly rose to his feet just as Harry's mind began to clear. The Englishman scooped up his wand and pushed himself to an upright position. He swayed a little, but had his wand pointed at his opposing champion in a second.

"I vas being controlled," Krum explained, with his hands spread in a gesture of good-will. "He had me under de Imperius Curse."

Harry blinked at him twice with a frown, judging whether Viktor was telling the truth, and nodded before lowering his wand a few seconds later. "Fine." He relented. "Now who the fuck is that?" He asked, nodding at the downed figure.

"I do not know." Krum shook his head. "You go on ahead; I will send for a teacher."

In another scenario, Harry might have argued that Krum shouldn't give up his chances, but he'd just held him under the torture curse. Viktor owed him that much, and so Harry nodded before going on ahead."

-()()-

"Huh. I wonder if Harry knocked Krum unconscious." Tracy pondered aloud.

"Must have. Why else would Krum be staying still?" Daphne reasoned. "Oh, and that must be Harry sending for somebody to fetch him." She added, as red sparks shot into the air over the maze.

"Wait... now he's next to Fleur?"

-()()-

"Fleur?" Harry asked. "Fleur?" His voice became more urgent, as he dropped to his knees next to the girl. "Thank merlin," He sighed, as he found a pulse in her neck.

"_Episkey_." He murmured, and waved his wand over the Veela's lower leg. It began to heal it, but he would rather not _enervate_ her until he knew she wouldn't be in that much pain and, so, Harry pointed his wand into the sky and fired up some red sparks. Madame Pomphrey would be able to properly take care of her, and spot any internal injuries.

The teen moved into a crouch, and waited until a teacher arrived on the scene in the form of Professor Sprout. She wasted no time in waving a wand at the unconscious girl, and shooting a questioning look at Harry as Fleur rose to float alongside her.

"I think she was attacked by someone in here with us. I don't know what happened, I just found her like this, but I'm worried that there might've been a curse or something. He tried to use the Killing Curse on me, after all."

"What?!"

"It's not important! Krum knocked him out, just please get Fleur out of here!"

"I... fine, but I am going to report this to the headmaster!" Sprout exclaimed.

"Of course." Harry gave a strained smile, and turned away to head towards what must be the centre of the maze, since his and Fleur's quarter had converged into a single path at this stage. He wondered where his brother was, and if he'd had as much trouble with this as Harry and the others had.

He found out soon enough, as he caught site of a blue light at the end of a tunnel of darkness. The ethereal teal glow was visible for Harry long before the source, that of the trophy that served as their prize, was in sight. Harry stalked forwards, with his wand in hand, expecting that there would be some final obstacle that he had to face before retrieving the cup.

His brother had had the same idea, and Harry believed that it must have been their mother that instructed him as such as Thomas cast charm after charm on the ground before the goblet in an attempt to uncover whatever obstacle would be blocking his path. On some level, Harry was glad to see that their supposed-saviour was learning not to be an idiot. Perhaps this tournament had done as much. But the lessening of his Gryffindor traits was not enough to stop Thomas from giving up on the venture upon seeing his hated brother nearing the prize, and so Harry was certain that he would have to use an obscure tact.

The easiest solution would be to stun his brother and grab the cup, but Harry was certain that the cup was magical. It would likely disrupt any spells that passed too close, and a stunner, or any spell, would have to pass within inches of it to travel from Harry to Thomas.

Another method that would probably work would be to charm a chunk of earth to fly at his brother, and recreate the effects of a stunner. If Harry did not have a choice, he would go with that, but one wrong move on Thomas' part and the earth would strike him on the head. That could kill him, and Harry expected his death would go down poorly with the general public, which added to own reluctance to have the blood of someone who wasn't _really_ deserving on his hands. Thomas was an arsehole, but he was neither _evil_ nor a threat to Harry's life or that of his pack.

A patronus? A Direwolf, as would be the form of the mist since that was Harry's most recently used transformation, would scare the shit out of Thomas, but he might have the presence of mind to grab the cup before he legged it. The same would go for actually transforming into one of his scarier three, since Thomas could take the cup first. Although, if he had managed to perfect _that_ by this point, maybe Thomas would be shell-shocked enough to take pause at the sight. Hypotheticals were useless, though, and so Harry dismissed it.

His smallest form, though... Harry reached the conclusion that that would work, and dropped into a crouch with a slight grimace at the promise of the discomfort of changing into the falcon. It felt strange simply because it required _shrinking_ instead of growing. If forced to describe it, Harry supposed he might liken it to the feeling during apparation of being squeezed through a tube, although it was certainly less unpleasant than the first time Harry was side-along-apparated.

Without a sound, Harry's human 6ft form shrunk and distorted and he was replaced by the slightly-under 2ft form of his Peregrine Falcon. He took to the air a second later on silent wings, just in time as Thomas happened to glance down the corridor that Harry had been stood in seconds prior. He did not, however, look up as he cautiously cast another spell on the stand that actually held the cup with his eyes narrowed. Harry wondered whether that meant Thomas could feel that he was being watched; it would make sense for that to be his motive for abandoning caution, and moved to hover over the cup with two flaps of his wings.

Harry squawked, and Thomas looked up to see the small bird falling with its wings tucked. His eyes widened in recognition from years prior, and his mouth jaw dropped. Then, the bird shifted to his brother, and Thomas panicked. His hand darted forwards as Harry's own approached the top of the trophy.

The two Potter brothers took a hold of the cup at the same time, and both let out a curse as they felt the familiar tug on their naval. Neither was very good with magical-transportation. Why hadn't they been warned that it was a portkey?

Harry rolled as he slammed into the ground at whatever point they had been taken to, and growled; a low, dark sound as he caught the scent of death.

"Thomas," Harry began, as he shoved himself to his feet. "Be careful; we aren't in Hogwarts anymore." He instructed.

"Kill the spare!" A voice rasped. Harry spun on the spot to find the source. A bad move.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" A woman's voice shrieked.

A jet of green light met Harry Potter's chest, and he fell like a puppet who's strings had been cut.

-()()()()-

**Okay... yeah, I'm a bastard, aren't I? I don't really know what else to say, since I'm betting that some of you are going to hate me for a while, but I hope that you can eventually forgive me. I know it's asking a lot, but please bear in mind that I am not finishing my story here (although that would be funny as hell, come to think of it) and that there have been ****_some_****hints about what happens immediately in the next chapter.**

**Is that enough? No? Fine, I'll post the next chapter tomorrow. (I have it written to the point that it could be a really short chapter and be finished, or I could either edit, and add some more to, it or write a little more.) Unfortunately, I find cliffhangers (in my own stories) entertaining, and so will keep you in suspense 'til tomorrow afternoon.**

**Feel free to express yourselves through reviews!**

**Bye!**


	25. The Graveyard

**Here's another chapter. I said it's be out today, and here it is. In the morning because people seem to have ignored my AN, and believe that Harry's dead and that the story is ruined (although one person seemed pleased at the notion).**

**Quite short, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. And, I'd just like to state that I have a reason for not having Harry instantly hate Voldemort. **

**This is a little gruesome, but I don't think it's too bad.**

**Let me know if you enjoyed it.**

**-()()()-**

If he had been able, Harry would have screamed. He would have begged death to take him. Would have roared his regret that he had chested the being and pleaded for forgiveness for the act; because, surely, that was the reason that he was reliving this experience.

How could anything hurt this much?

-()-

_The sharpened, magical diamond was slick in a twelve year old Harry Potter's hand; slippery from the blood that coated it as he cried his pain to the cavern in which he currently resided. His left hand shook as it pressed against the floor and pushed his magic into the rock in its natural, chaotic form. It took all of his concentration to maintain the siphoning of his energy, but it was more necessary than anything Harry had done hitherto._

_If his connection to the massive rune on which he lay broke, Harry would die._

_The floor was painted, in the blood of a bear he had hunted earlier in the day, with a large, crude anchor. The same rune as Harry was gouging into his heart at that very moment; his chest-plate giving way to the harder substance as the pre-teen pressed the diamond-blade through the bone and dragged the hilt-less knife down in harsh movements, wholly unconcerned as the edges cut into his hand; it was irrelevant in the face of his soul being forcefully restrained, being chained to his mortal shell, as Harry's entire being centred around _that_ agony. Any other pain paled in comparison._

_Harry could not remember why he had chosen to do this; forgot the fact that he had gotten the _urging_, presumably from whatever being blessed him all those years ago, forgot that he would be better able to protect the family that had taken him in if he was not able to be felled by a single sickly-green curse, forgot even his hate for his own weakness, including that which was shared by all living things._

_The animals that wandered the land around his cave, on the plains of Africa, avoided the rocky plains from fear of the pain-filled wails and the pulsating thrums of magic that radiated from the cavern._

_Harry poured his magic, or that of it that was not focused on the runes below him, into the diamond, and the gemstone was flooded with deep-blue colouring as the energy spread throughout. Harry would not have believed that his pain could increase but, as his raging magic spread into his heart and corrupted his blood he found that he had been wrong. He found that every fibre of his body was pulled apart, that his nerves were isolated, and each was subjected to a unique torture.. His cries stopped, and were replaced by strangled gasped as he felt Death's shadow looming._

_Then, the shade was pushed back, and Harry felt nothing as he lay on the rocky ground and fell into Morpheus' warm embrace. By the time he woke, his chest would have recovered and turned back to its ordinary state instead of that of the mangled mess it currently consisted of._

_Harry would, however, be exhausted magically, physically and mentally. He would barely crawl to the corpse of his cat-form's kill and choke down some of the raw meat. Not an appetising prospect when he was in his human form, but it would provide enough sustenance to keep him alive until he could scratch a fire-rune into the ground and scorch it to a more pleasing meal._

_He remembered why he had done it, then, and the memory of the agony began to fade to give way to more important matters. The trip here had been long, even with his animals forms and magical transport available, and so Harry needed to return to England as soon as he had the energy available._

_Harry felt drawn to the plains of Africa. It was a place where one could almost believe the wild still ruled, instead of being usurped by man._

-()()-

Harry had been left where he fell, and he sat up with a quiet gasp and cracked his neck before raising his right hand to press the heel against his forehead. He found himself looking at blood-stained fingernails and forgot about the headache he now had. With a grimace, he realised what that meant and looked down at his bloody chest. He had tried to claw the heart, and with it the anchoring rune, out of his body. Harry moved his hand to the forearm of his left arm and activated the healing rune again; the drain was not significant enough to forgo repairing the damage as blood streamed down his torso.

Wait... where was he? He had a strange feeling that he should be rushing to do something.

Harry cast his mind back.

'The tent, for the night before the third task,' Harry listed, thinking to himself. 'Leaving the tent. Daphne coming up to me... ah, a kiss, arguing, another kiss... picking a number... going into the hedge-maze... the sphinx and her riddles... Skrewts... myself; fighting myself... Gabrielle and Fleur! Fuck!' He looked wildly around for the girls. Where were they? 'No! No, Merlin's shit!'

No... wait, Gabrielle was a Boggart, and Fleur was rescued by Professor Sprout. They were fine. So, where was he?

'My brother was there... next to the cup? Yeah, next to the cup. We grabbed it at the same time and it was a portkey. _Then_ I got hit by the Killing Curse. Question is, who hit me? I doubt Thomas would be willing to use such '_dark magic_', after all.' Harry spotted the cup lying a few metres away from him; obviously Thomas was still in the immediate vicinity, then.

Where, though? With the one that tried to kill Harry?

The elder Potter cautiously rose, and stood on shaky legs. It was the first time he'd been hit by the Killing Curse, and so he had no doubt it'd take a while to recover. Hopefully, he'd not find out whether it got better with repetition.

Why the fuck was he in a graveyard? Creepy.

Then, a cry of agony reached him, and Harry's neck snapped into that direction. The resulting head-rush told him that he was in no condition to be fighting, and he dropped to his knees heaving. Nothing came up, and Harry rolled onto his back again with a moan of pain. He sat up again, and his hand found his wand. It would not do to get into a duel, but he could do _something_ to help the poor bastard, likely Thomas so the emphasis was on _bastard_, getting tortured. If only Harry had his playing cards with him. Without that resource, he'd have to make do with what was readily available and he moved to a ruined gravestone and began collecting the smaller pieces of debris.

It was with a shaky hand that he began carving runes into the stone, but they were simple-enough to do the job.

Harry rose again, with the stones stuffed into his pockets or cradled in his arms, and this time slowly limped over in the general direction of his brother's shrieks. Had he been in better condition, he would have noticed the musky, feminine scent that followed him, its owner having been drawn by the sound of retching even as her fellow Death Eaters had been entranced by the-boy-who-lived being tortured.

The now pale black haired teen hid behind a tombstone, piling some of the rocks in front of him, and he peered over at a tall, pale, serpentine man standing in front of a group of cloaked and masked wizards and one gasping, twitching Potter. Harry scowled as the wizard flicked his wand at Thomas again, with a hissed _crucio,_ and Thomas squirmed and shrieked. Harry disliked, detested even, his brother, but could not see a reason to be torturing him. The otherwizards did nothing to help the 14 year old, so they must be in cahoots with the torturer.

That gave Harry peace of mind, as he took a hold of one of the rocks at the top of the pile and drew back his hand.

Bellatrix watched, fascinated, as the pretty teen launched a rock at one of the snivelling Death Eaters, wondering if there was something special about the projectile, and giggled as the man's head exploded. The boy, unaware of her presence threw another just as the others took note of the death of their comrade, and she leapt forwards. The rock hit another, and a large, invisible blade swept across the back of his neck. It must have severed the spine, as the man fell forwards instantly.

Harry did not have time to throw another as a small hand appeared under his chin and pushed his head up as its partner pressed a wand against his throat. His Adam's Apple bobbed as a small cut appeared under the tip, and a woman's voice murmured something to him.

"Naughty, naughty," Harry felt a shiver run down his spine, as her breath tickled his ear. "You're interrupting My Lord, handsome. You have an over-eager audience, My Lord!" The unknown woman then announced.

"An audience?" The serpentine man hissed, annoyed to have his attention taken away from the boy-who-lived He had not, in fact, noticed that two of his Inner-Circle members had died he was so engrossed in his fun. Crimson eyes flicked over to Bella, and those present were witness to something very few had seen, as the Dark Lord's eyes widened in shock. "You..."

"My Lord?" Bella's tone took on one of just-detectable concern.

"How?" Voldemort's long legs carried him quickly to stand in front of Harry, and his gaze was a strange one. Harry would almost have called it reverent, had he not been fearing for his life. He could survive the Killing Curse; he could not survive getting his head cut off, or even having his throat slashed. "How are you alive?" He asked, raising a hand and touching Harry's cheek as if to check he was not a ghost.

Harry did not answer, as he tried to shrink away and pushed Bellatrix back slightly. She hissed her own annoyance, but was not willing to interrupt her Lord.

"ANSWER!" The Dark Lord barked, and his hand snapped across Harry's face, backhanding him and throwing the teen away from Bellatrix. "HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?!" When no answer was forthcoming, he raised his wand again. "_CRUCIO!_"

And Harry's bones were on fire as he roared his pain to the sky. While not as bad as being forcefully kept on this world, Voldemort's Cruciatus curse was fifty times worse than Krum's and the agony was overwhelming to Harry's drastically weakened form.

Then, the pain was gone, and Voldemort's tone was calm again. "How are you alive, Harry?"

"How do you know my name?" Harry growled back.

"Tsk, do you really think I would not have my spies inform me of the second Potter Champion? One who hates his family and, if rumour is to be believed, thwarted my younger self during the chamber incident?"

"Younger... you are Voldemort?" Harry asked, in a weak tone, as he sat up and slowly rose to his feet.

"Intelligent, as well," Voldemort noted, still staring at the boy who had survived the Killing Curse.

"Pretty."

"What was that, Bella?" Voldemort asked his Lieutenant.

"He is pretty, My Lord." Bella lowered her head.

Voldemort sneered at the notion, and ignored the interruption. "You would make a fine addition to my ranks, Harry." He nodded to himself. "You could fight those you hate so badly."

"Not going to happen," Harry shook his head, and winced at the headache that made its presence known.

"And why not?" Voldemort asked, amicably, seeming genuinely curious. "You do not hold any love for the Potters, nor Dumbledore. They abandoned you; they left you to die."

"But _they_ don't rape children." Harry bit back, with venom.

"Nor do I," Voldemort shook his head. "I-"

"Your men do, and I would kill them all for that crime, if your crazy pet hadn't grabbed me. You, on the other hand, kill them." Harry interrupted, and heard angry mutterings from the Death Eaters around him for interrupting the man. This was a stupid thing to do, but Harry only needed enough time to get enough power to activate a few of his runes, then he could escape. Hopefully, Thomas would have thought to get moving back to the cup already. "Which I do not find as abhorrent, but is still _entirely_ unjustified by the bullshit propaganda you spew."

"Bullshit propaganda?" Now, Riddle's eyes sparked with curiosity even as he narrowed them for show; his sanity holding true at the possibility to find out how to survive the Killing Curse. Immortality, how he craved it. "You are a Blood-Traitor, then." He hissed, though there was little genuine anger that Harry could hear. He waved his wand, and Harry was thrown backwards, and only stopped when his back met a tall tombstone. Voldemort stalked forwards, and his eyes bore into Harry's.

"_Legilimens_." He hissed, and began his assault on Harry's mind. He missed the vicious victory in the teen's eyes as he did so.

Voldemort's mind stabbed forwards, expecting to meet resistance from the talented Wizard, and his thoughts took on a tone of surprise as he found none. Instead, he was 'stood' in the middle of a strange jungle. One that was cloaked in darkness. That was odd, he noted, as he looked around for signs that this was a memory in, presumably, the form of a younger Harry Potter. It must have been especially important if Harry's mind had pulled him to it, and Voldemort found himself needing to know _why_. He had been looking for an explanation, and he had come here; this must be the place he would learn it.

Riddle turned, as he heard a growl, and found himself facing a massive cat of some kind; one who's ebony fur blended into the starless night around them. He involuntarily shivered; the elder Potter child must have encountered such an animal, and Voldemort wondered how he had survived such an encounter.

Then, it lunged forwards, and its jaws closed around Riddle's throat.

The Death Eaters watched, horrified, as their Lord stumbled backwards with his hands going to his neck with a startled gasp and his magic spiking. Bellatrix instantly leapt forwards, her face distorted into concern, and was at Voldemort's side in a second.

"My Lord!" She exclaimed, then turned her attention onto the boy who was grinning at him. "What did you do?!" She demanded. No answer came, and she brandished her own wand. "_Crucio_!"

Harry grit his teeth, and let out a moan of pain, but did not cry out. His healing rune was already working overtime, shown by the fact that his left pectoral now only showed red scratches as a sign that he had been injured, and her cructiatus was not as potent as her Lord's, though it was fucking strong. She relented her assault, as an icy cold hand touched her arm.

"My Lord?" She asked, and Voldemort waved her away. She, obediently, stepped back, and Voldemort's gaze moved back to Harry.

"Interesting." He remarked, of the boy in front of him. "_How did you survive the Killing Curse_?" He asked, in Parseltongue.

"_Fuck off_." Harry returned, in the same language, and Voldemort's mouth twisted into the imitation of a smile. Then, it faltered as Harry's hand whipped to his own chest, and a blinding light ignited. A second later, a hand slammed into Voldemort's abdomen, and he fell to the floor, frozen. Next to him, Bellatrix fell to the floor, as well, with a muted thud.

Harry fell to his knees next to them, and pressed his hand against the ground with a grunt of frustration. The rune he was using to paste runes onto other surfaces required him to shed the glamour-like disguise he always wore, and he did not like people to see him as he really was. The ground where he touched it grumbled, and rose into a wall. Harry gasped, shuddered, and stumbled away from the prone forms of Voldemort and Bellatrix, his breathing ragged. While his body had mostly recovered from the strain, Harry's core was far from replenished.

The two sinister magicals watched him scramble away just as the complex patterns covering his back began to fade to tanned skin once more following Harry raising his hand to press against the inverted eye in the centre of his chest. Seconds later, the two felt whatever magic had been binding them lift, and rose angrily to follow. With a furious hiss that carried over the sound of his subordinates casting, Voldemort ordered the Death Eaters to follow with strict orders to stun. The Death Eaters assumed that Lord Voldemort wanted to kill the teen himself, likely after some torture; this was a mistake on the part of one in particular, who's brother's head had been blown clean off by Harry.

As Harry weaved his way through the graveyard, ducking behind gravestones and stumbling, he felt panic rise within him. Harry should have done _something_ to avenge his grandparents, but trying to fight Voldemort would end in his death, and he didn't _hate_ the Dark Lord, no matter how despicable the man was. Harry, on some level, understood the man. More than Dumbledore did, he was sure.

Harry reached his brother in the nick of time, as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Thomas was leaning over the cup, preferring to wait for Harry but ready to leave at a moment's notice, and Harry was grateful that he had that method of escape. He lunged forwards, and grabbed the cup in tandem with his younger sibling just as a stunner passed through the space that had contained Harry James Potter. Harry had never been so happy to feel the familiar tug of a fish-hook on his naval.

When the two appeared before a silent crowd, their absence having been noticed, Thomas was the first to speak.

"V-Voldemort!" He gasped, as Dumbledore rushed over. Behind the Headmaster, Minister Fudge's eyes widened.

-()()()-


	26. Aftermath

**Okay, here's another chapter. I've had three thousand words of it written for three days, or something, but I had a thought about something I wanted to add to the conversation between Harry and Sebastian, and managed to fall asleep without making note of what it was, meaning that I know there's ****_something_****I waned to add but don't have an effing clue what that was.**

**Oh, and the conversation about Daphne and Fleur smooching Harry'll take place next chapter. That's why it's missing from this one.**

**Oh, and there've been a couple of complaints that things aren't changing enough. Not that I need to defend the choices I make in regards to this, but I've very nearly stated outright that one of the climaxes of the story is coming in the foreseeable future. I am the only one who knows what that climax entails exactly, and am quite excited about writing it.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter.**

**-()()()-**

"No."

"No? I do not believe that I phrased it as a question."

"I don't give a damn if you phrased it as a question, the answer is still no."

"You will-"

"I won't."

"You _will_ drink this, Mr Potter, even if I have to force it down your throat."

"You're bluffing."

"Am I?"

"Obviously you are. First, I'm a student; you can't _force_ me to drink one of your foul concoctions, that would be a violation of your contract. Second, you couldn't even if you wanted to."

"I assure you, I have encountered students more stubborn than you, Mr Potter, and you _all_ cave eventually. You will not leave this Hospital Wing until you drink this potion unless you force my hand and I have to send you to St Mungos. The Healers there would argue that I should do so anyway, but the Headmaster has requested that you be kept on Hogwarts' ground for the time being to prevent your being mobbed by the press."

Fleur suppressed the urge to laugh at the sight in front of her. Standing toe to toe with Harry, who had just stood unflinching in front of Lord Voldemort himself, was the elderly matron of Hogwarts. While toe to toe was an apt description, eye to eye was nowhere near; Harry stood about a foot taller than Madame Pomphrey, and looked down at her with narrowed eyes as she stood between he and the exit to the dreaded Hospital Wing. The woman returned the glare with at least double Harry's intensity, and Fleur bit her knuckle as she watched the Healer point to a bed on one wall, and Harry's gaze flick to it.

The Veela failed to hold in her giggle as Harry's shoulders slumped and he began to walk towards the indicated bed. This gained the attention of all three occupants of the room, and Harry, Thomas and Poppy all turned to look at the visitors that were lingering in the doorway with varying degrees of amusement. Fleur believed that James Potter and Sirius Black were seconds away from guffawing when they were pulled back to the present, thankfully, by Lily Potter barging past them, hesitating, and making a beeline for Thomas as Harry's eyes narrowed. James followed his wife, under the scrutiny of his eldest son, and Sirius took a step forward.

Harry glared at his Godfather as the man looked at him with a concerned expression. Harry dismissed it as an act, and his emerald orbs burned into Sirius. The Head of House Black sighed, and followed his friends, who were more used to Harry's resistance to any attempts to reconcile and so settled for shooting none-too-subtle looks at Harry as he ignored them. Ron and Hermione joined them by their friend's bed, and Thomas grimaced at the attention he was getting. Unlike his brother, he was confined to his bed due to the aftermath of the torture-curse, and Hermione and his mother took this to mean that they needed to fuss over him.

Harry's glare softened as he looked at his own visitors, and vanished altogether when he saw Gabrielle clutching her sister's hand and looking at him nervously. His head tilted to the side, and his brow furrowed in concern as he detected a hint of fear in the small girl, and then her face broke out into a grin and she tugged Fleur forwards. Harry's eyes moved to Fleur, and his frown returned.

"I would have thought that Pomphrey'd have you hostage too." He remarked, glancing at the matron.

"Non. She treated me on ze site of ze Sixth Task." The tall french girl shook her head, and continued at Harry opening his mouth to continue. "I would 'ave been taken to ze 'Ospital Wing, but I believe she forgot in ze commotion." Harry nodded after a moment, and moved his gaze to those that weren't being dragged forwards by little Veelas.

Harry's eyes met Daphne's, and he saw more than a hint of nervousness that he tried to alleviate with a, no doubt strained, smile. Her posture seemed to relax, and she gave him her own strained smile before he moved to the girls that had not kissed him before the Task. The emotion that he saw in them was more understandable, if unjustified. He had not gotten the chance to assure them of his help before he was carted to the Castle, and so they were worried for his health.

"I'm fine," Harry said, in a soft tone. "There's nothing to w-"

"You are not fine!" Poppy Pomphrey interrupted. "Your core is almost drained, and you are recovering from the Cruciatus! BOTH OF YOU!" Lily Potter gasped something that Harry didn't quite catch over the furious, wordless shout of Andrew Greengrass, the similar exclamation from James Potter, and the carrying growl of Sirius Black, while his friends stared blankly at him, not quite comprehending what they'd just been told.

Thank heaven for Gabrielle, who did not know what the Matron had just said and took the opportunity to launch herself at Harry with a musical laugh that only increased when he caught her and moved her to sit in his arms.

"_Mama said that you were injured, Harry!_" She complained. "_But you seem fine! Why are they saying that you're hurt?_"

"_It's just a misunderstanding, Angel. I exerted myself a little too much magically, and now they need to keep me under observation for a while._" He half-lied. The little girl that he was holding accepted his word, and leant against his shoulder as Harry grimaced. "_I'm sorry, sweetie, but your sister and my friends need to yell at me a little. I have to put you down,_" He moved over to the bed next to his designated sleeping area and set her down. The girl complained, but he just grinned at her as her mother and father came over to subdue the little Veela.

"_We are glad to see that you are okay, Harry_." Apolline kissed him on the cheek, after speaking in an affectionate tone, and drifted over to her daughter's side.

"'Arry," Sebastian began, in a more serious tone. "I 'ave ze records from the bracelet I gave you before ze task. It was lucky you were wearing it as I 'ave been able to give ze proof to ze British Minister zat you were taken. 'E refused to believe me, zo I can only 'ope zat others will be more prepared to believe 'ze word of a Frenchman', but eizzer way I will give it to my superiors at ze French Ministry; we, at ze very least, will begin to prepare for 'is return."

"That's good to hear. Thank you." Harry smiled at Lord Delacour, who nodded somberly in response. "And I'm sorry about the Ministry; its messed up, but there are quite a few bigots in high places." He said apologetically. "Does that mean that Dumbledore and Fudge are still talking?"

"Oui." Sebastian nodded. "I believe zey are going to follow shortly, but your 'Eadmaster is attempting to calm Fudge before zey do so. He is most outraged by the claims that Meester Potter made, zough I cannot say why 'e is so adamant against ze possibility."

"Hmm..." Harry nodded slowly, as Sebastian moved over to his youngest's bed and Harry's other visitors recovered enough from their surprise to come closer. It seemed, to Harry, that they made some kind of silent agreement not to ask what happened. Harry would inevitably have to tell the story several times today, and they would be here to listen to it at that time. "Andrew, can I have a word?" Harry asked, seriously. The man's eyes widened ever so slightly, and he nodded with curiosity in them.

"What's the matter?" The man asked.

"I don't know what to say to the Minister, and was wondering what you can tell me about him. Is there _any_ chance that he would rise to the occasion and start preparing for the attacks that're going to come?" Harry was fairly certain that he knew the answer, but if there was even a chance that he misjudged Fudge, he was certainly going to take it.

Andrew smiled sadly. "No. No, I'm afraid there isn't; he would never admit that Voldemort's back based solely on your word. The Dark Lord would have to appear in front of his face before Fudge would consider doing so; the only way to guarantee action would be if he appeared in front of Fudge _and_ everyone else in Wizarding Britain." As Andrew said this, Harry became aware of the fact that he had not moved far enough away from the others; while the Potters and their ilk could not hear what was being discussed, the rest of his own visitors were leaning forwards to better hear what was being said. The black haired teen shrugged slightly; it wasn't a big secret that Fudge was a god-awful Minister, the only hope Harry had held was that _maybe_, just maybe, he would be able to thrive in a war-time government.

"Great." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Did you hear his feelings on what Thomas said when we reappeared?"

"I heard snippets; I'm afraid my attention was elsewhere at the time, but he was muttering about brainwashing and insanity. Something to do with Dumbledore, but I'm sure his paranoia hasn't had time to fully formulate whatever imagined slight he's going to come up with."

"Right, so backing up Thomas on the matter won't do me any good," Harry assumed, with a bitterness to his voice. "Any idea what I _should_ do?" He asked, slightly weary.

"I'm not sure..." Andrew grimaced. "I suppose that I could help you make an attempt at claiming your seats on the Wizengamot even though you're far younger than common." Harry remembered, vaguely, that it was a convention that nobody sat on the council before they were 35; Andrew had not been on it for more than a few years.

"That wouldn't make them any more willing to hear my case," Harry shook his head. "They'd be outraged at my audacity, and you'd probably be pressured to resign for suggesting it."

"Maybe with the support of other Lords..." Andrew, reluctantly, looked at the two English Lords, other than himself and Harry, that were in this room. "I know you'd be... reluctant to ask them for help, but together we may be able to muster up enough support."

"No." Harry replied, his voice taking on a slightly icy tone. Then, he forced himself to relax and gave proper justification. "Besides, I'd have to declare all of my Lordships, right?" He asked, and had his thought confirmed by a nod. "Can you imagine the Prophet getting wind of _that_? Especially while I'm still at school; I have no trouble being a little feared, but the Muggle Borns would start dropping out." Harry said, with a hint of amusement.

"Right. I hadn't thought of that." Andrew soon enough made the connection that Harry meant House Lucifer. "I am sure that there's a solution, but we're running out of time. Maybe... I don't know, maybe you could climb out of the window? Or hide? Fudge is pathetic, but it would not do to have him against you. Any Minister can be a formidable opponent, and you've yet to be trained in politics..."

"And I'm certainly not naturally gifted in it." Harry finished the thought. His entire personalty was prone to fluctuating, especially his temper, and the idea of being trapped in a dusty courtroom for hours on end was repulsive to him and all of his animal instincts. The avians, especially, craved freedom; being confined to the castle on occasion was bad enough.

The two males fell into silence; one was thinking hard, trying to some up with something that Fudge would want to hear and that would help the situation at hand, while the other was contemplating running. He might not be able to shift into an animal form just yet, given that his energies were very much thrown off by his brush, or maybe head-on collision was the better description, with death. If Pomphrey would just leave for a moment, Harry felt confident that he could sneak out; if necessary he could might be able to summon enough strength to pass through the wall, alas, though, the Matron was not taking her eyes off him unless it was to flick to Thomas and back again.

"I have a suggestion," A girl's voice spoke up, and Harry looked to Daphne with a barely suppressed grin. While he was not gifted in the art of Politics, the ice-queen of Slytherin was. Unlike Harry, all she needed to do was get her temper in check and then she'd be a force to be reckoned with; the Greengrass heiress looked forward to gathering dirt on the other purebloods, and would be excellent at blackmail. That was a strange compliment to give, but undeniably true of the ruthless girl.

"Go ahead, Daphne." Andrew smiled at his daughter, and Daphne rose to walk over to Harry. The girl, upon reaching her friend, stood on her tiptoes and rose to whisper her thought process. Harry felt her breath tickle his ear, and his eyebrows rose at hearing the plan, slightly annoyed that he had not thought of what now sounded rather simple.

He did not have time to share it with Thomas Potter, though, and so Harry would have to throw the boy under the bus, so to speak, through inaction.

The doors banged open, and Minister Fudge stormed into the room. Dumbledore followed, at a sedate pace, a second later. Even with Fudge marching, and Dumbledore treating it as a leisurely stroll, the longer legs of the Headmaster allowed him to not fall far behind.

"Minister, if you would not mind, I would like to ask my students for their retelling of the events." Dumbledore suggested. He gained his response in the form of a grunt, and Dumbledore nodded his thanks to the plump man. "Thomas, if you would begin?"

Thomas did as he was asked, and Harry listened to the retelling of the events in the graveyard with bated breath; breath that was released upon a certain sentence being uttered.

"... and then Bellatrix Lestrange hit Harry with a... weird spell. I didn't recognise it, but it knocked him out and must've drained his core." The younger teen's eyes flicked to his brother, who was looking at him in surprise, and Thomas nodded subtly at him. Harry guessed that he did not notice the disbelief in the eyes of Hermione Granger, sat at his bedside, or the look of confusion on Sirius'.

Then, Thomas went on to describe how Bella and Wromtail restrained him against a gravestone, and then Bella cut his forearm and flicked the blood into a cauldron at the centre of the graveyard. Wormtail had tossed some bones in after them, and than Bellatrix had grabbed the Rat and cut off his arm. A disfigured baby that could speak had been dropped into the pot, and a tall, pale man had risen from the Cauldron. He had introduced himself as Voldemort, had Death Eaters arrive and gave a speech to them, and then proceeded to torture Thomas for an unknown period of time. Harry had arrived and caused a distraction, and Thomas had made a break for the cup, waiting for Harry to arrive or for him to be forced to leave. Harry had shown up, and they'd come back courtesy of the Portkey that the Death Eaters had left in place. Each time the word _Voldemort_ was used, Fudge flinched.

"And you expect me to believe that they simply left the means to your escape lying on the floor?" Fudge demanded, his sceptical tone bordering on insulting. The reason that it only bordered was quickly made clear. "Lord Potter, I would ask that you have words with your son. He is lying to the Minister himself!"

"I did not raise a liar, Minister," James stood, with a stone mask that Fudge had seen on any number of insulted Lords. "And I do not take kindly to your accusing a member of my household of such without proof."

"I... Being a member of a Noble House does not excuse spreading lies of the return of a Dark Lord!" Fudge regained his outrage after only a moment of hesitation. "I will not tolerate such horrific rumours in a time of uncertainty such as this! Your son is obviously attempting to increase his diminishing fame by using the Death Eater activity last year! If your misguided _children_ do not cease, your family name will be tarnished!" he half-threatened, choosing his words so that he had not made a direct threat, instead stating what he viewed as fact.

"I am not lying!" Thomas exclaimed. "How d-"

"How dare you accuse my son?!" Lily was now on her feet. "If he says that Voldemort," The minister flinched. "Has returned, then he has! Ask our eldest, if you do not have enough proof!" Harry was sat on the end of his bed now, waiting his turn.

"Is this true, Mr Potter?" Dumbledore asked, curious as to Harry's answer.

"A man claiming to be Voldemort attacked me, yes," Harry nodded.

"'Claiming'?!" Thomas voiced his outrage at that wording, surprising Harry by catching it.

"I would not know if he was Voldemort or not," Harry shrugged. "I do not have a cursed scar, and have never met him." He explained, under the Headmaster's gaze. "But I saw both Bellatrix Lestrange and Peter Pettigrew who are known Death Eaters. That, at the very least, implicates Death Eater involvement."

Fudge did not know what to make of this, evidently, and did not take the olive branch Harry was extending. "No! This is nothing but the ramblings of two schoolchildren," Fudge yelled, furious. "One of whom hungers for fame after so long in a spotlight that is dimming all of a sudden, and the other craves acceptance from his family after being rejected for so long!" He insisted. "It is pathetic!" At this, he drew a sack of galleons, magically shrunken to not be cumbersome, and dropped it on the floor.

"How _dare_ you?!" Lily Potter objected, not looking over at her eldest son, who's posture had slackened. "We would never manipulate Harry like that! We want nothing more than for him to come back!" Sirius Black lunged forwards, as Lily's wand appeared in her hand and she raised it. The Lord wrestled it away from her in time for the Minister to storm out of the medical centre in the same fashion as he had entered.

"_Ennervate_." Andrew Greengrass whispered, in the suddenly quiet room, and Harry woke with a jerk and a snarl that quickly turned to confusion.

"What the? Where... you stunned me!" He accused the man, who was still gripping his shoulder.

"We couldn't risk you attacking the Minister of Magic, Harry. That would end badly for everyone involved, especially when you were forced to go on the run or risk being thrown into Azkaban."

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it with a grunt of annoyance when he was unable to refute the argument.

"But I am sorry, Harry. I wish I had not needed to do so."

"Yeah, yeah." Harry shrugged him off, a tad grumpy but not likely to hold a grudge for the spell since it was cast by Andrew. "Did anything important happen while I was out?" Harry asked, his tone a slight growl still.

"Not particularly," Daphne shook her head. "Mrs Potter attempted to attack him, but that was foiled as well."

"Hmm." Harry acknowledged.

"Harry?" Thomas Potter spoke up.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, almost dismissively, as his eyes flicked to Thomas and saw Hermione moving away from where she was whispering something in his ear. "Why did you... save me?" He asked, as though his mouth was unused to forming the words." Lily and James were not subtle in their own curiosity, nor their hope, as they turned to focus on their eldest son.

"You were being tortured." Harry answered, in a tone that strongly suggested that he thought Thomas an idiot for having to ask.

"But... you hate me?" He half-asked.

"So?" Was Harry's response.

"So why would you save someone you hated?! Why would you risk your life for the brother that's always been a bastard to you?!" Nothing like being tortured, and very nearly being murdered to change one's outlook on the past.

Harry frowned at him, and thought on the reason. Why _had_ he saved Thomas? "You don't deserve to be tortured." He shrugged. "Or anything else they might have done to you."

Thomas, James, Lily and Ron paled somewhat at that. "What do you mean? What else would they have done?" Hermione spoke up in a slightly frustrated tone, at not understanding the hint.

"Many Purebloods that run in the old circles are rumoured to have certain... perversions." Harry grimaced. "It is extremely unlikely that Voldemort would, as he detests the emotion of love, but some of his followers... well, there are reports of things like that happening in the war."

"Things like _what_?" Hermione asked, wanting more emotion and receiving unnerved looks from most of those in the room.

"Rape of women was the most common, but there were instances of men being... molested, as well. Boys were more common than full grown, but... well..." Harry looked ill, as he glanced at his brother. "The-boy-who-lived would be a... prize, to many of them. Even if Voldemort killed him, that would not stop them all; there were instances of sexual abuse _after_ death." Hermione, too, was looking green around the gills by now, and Harry stopped talking. It would probably be a bad idea to mention, to the Mundane-Born, that many of them had passed their habits onto the children that attended Hogwarts, or make mention of the fact that many of them had _fallen_ down flights of stairs during Harry's time at school.

"Mister and Mister Potter," Dumbledore changed the subject. "I would like to let you know that I will be announcing the return at the final feast of the year." He said. "I said this because it would be wise for you to prepare for the inevitable questions that will come your way." Harry met the man's eyes, and Dumbledore looked at him speculatively, his thoughts focused on Harry's answers to the questions Hermione and Thomas offered.

"Thank you for the warning, Headmaster," Harry nodded. "If there is nothing else, I would like to get some sleep."

-()()()-

**I'm not all that sure about this one, but the upcoming chapters promise to be far more interesting from where I am standing.**

**I hope you enjoyed it, though.**


	27. Feast, Come and Go, Train

**Okay, here's another chapter of Feral.**

**I'll admit that there are parts of this that I feel are a little shaky, just 'cause I wasn't all that motivated to write them, but this chapter was necessary for the future, even if only as a stepping stone to what happens next.**

**Oh, and I've mentioned before that people made mention of how things weren't changing enough from Canon. It's never going to be a blatantly AU fic, it still vaguely follows the rules and events set out by JK Rowling, but the changes which, in my opinion, will be pretty drastic will begin... well, soon. You'll hopefully spot the beginning as Harry finally becomes motivated to get involved with the war. Doesn't mean that he'll have a reason to forgive those that he detests, but it gives him a purpose.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter, and those that come in the future.**

Harry was sat in the centre of the Slytherin table, with Daphne, Tracy and Fleur, with an air of discomfort at the icy look on both Daphne and Fleur's face. He was aware of the fact that he needed to somehow sort the situation between the two out, but... well, he had no idea how to go about it. He had not been expecting a kiss from either and, as was always the case in things regarding human concepts, and marriage was what Harry associated with kissing and any other form of romance, he did not make any attempt to look at it from the point of view of the majority of his instincts. That would end poorly, he was sure. Animal he may be, but his humanity could combat the more worrying instincts.

Harry did his best to ignore the two for the time being, knowing that he was delaying the inevitable, and his eyes wandered around the hall. First, and most interestingly, he looked at the Head table, and took notice of a few obvious vacancies. Crouch was gone. Had been for the better part of the year, apparently, after being kidnapped, stripped of everything that could be used in a polyjuice, and killed one night while he was getting roaring drunk after his son's capture, thinking of the inevitable backlash that he would find after the tournament was over. Nobody had noticed the discrepancy, because it wasn't all that difficult to imitate someone as... irate as Crouch was, and Harry was quite annoyed by the fact. The Death Eater who took his place had damn near killed him, temporarily, and that would have sucked. It also would have lead to Thomas' death, with nobody knowing of Riddle's return until he announced it in what Harry was certain would have been a spectacular fashion.

What Harry wanted to know was why they were unable to identify the American. How many of them could have been supporters of Voldemort? Of those few, how many could have been devout enough to remove his own eye for the sake of being better able to spy on the competitors in the final task? If any of these had more than one candidate, it was worrying. The land that many of the British Ministers still thought of as _their_ colonies was one he and everyone else had assumed was beyond Tom's reach. The magical community was limited over there, and that was not what was concerning to Harry, but the _non_-magical?

The mundane community was more worrying. The idea of Voldemort's agents wising up to the weapons they had was enough to make him lose sleep. Chances were, they could imperius someone with access to the nuclear launch codes. They wouldn't sink England, with the Pureblood population here, but they may well attack a muggle-rich zone. Thankfully, that would require admitting Muggle's were more inventive when it came to, and better at on a large scale, killing people.

Harry was brought back to the present by the Great Hall falling silent, and caught the end of Dumbledore's speech.

"... and I am sorry to say that two of our own, Harry James Potter and Thomas Potter," He refrained from using the embarrassing middle name, oddly, but that seemed unimportant as Harry felt a sense of panic rise in his chest. The old man would not be dumb enough to just announce _this_ to a bunch of children, would he? "Have witnessed the return of an adversary against whom the entirety of Wizard-kind must come together to resist; the Dark Wizard Voldemort."

As the elderly wizard paused, to allow this to be processed, Harry's response was heard around the hall.

"Son of a Bitch!"

-()()()-

Harry's mood had not been improved by Minerva McGonagall berating him for his _outrageous language_, and so he was pacing back and forth, with a permanent snarl marring his face, later that night. Later, Harry would be unable to say what floor his feet had carried him to. He had been unable to sleep, and had not felt like staying down in the dungeons. His inner-beasts were restless, knowing the time that he would roam free was fast approaching, and would not accept the confinement.

While he, again, could not appreciate the humour in his current state, Harry would be extremely amused the day after by the memory of Mrs Norris (and how fucked up was it that she was apparently _married_ to her creepy-ass owner? Harry didn't want to know what he did with the poor feline) confronting him and running away shrieking her fear after Harry growled at her, his hackles rising as if he was in his canine form.

The Animagus teen's anger was, above all, centred on the harsh cycle of originating from Dumbledore's idiocy, and then furthered by the Head of Gryffindor _giving him a talking to_ and, lastly, magnified by the fact that they held sway enough to aggravate him so greatly. That was why he was in his own world as he tried to think of something that would calm him down.

Harry must have had a thought that was coherent enough to speak to the Castle's magic, as a door appeared on his right, not that it could have appeared on his left, since there was a picture of trolls being taught to dance ballet. The teen turned to it, with a wary frown, and watched it with his head tilted to the side to show some curiosity as he drew his wand and approached the mysterious room.

-()()()-

Harry had been roaming the halls for the better part of an hour, before he found himself entering the Room of Requirement, and his absence had been noticed by two blonde girls who had been sat alone in the Slytherin Common Room. All others had retreated to their rooms due to the icy aura around the two, even Tracy, who was rather used to the tension between Daphne and Fleur, had chosen to retreat to a safer area. This, however, did not mean she was willing to give up on talking to Harry once he came back, nor was she willing to wait until the morning to do so as by that time Fleur and Daphne would have done Merlin-knows how much damage, and so had chosen the room in which she now sat.

Harry's black and green, king-sized bed was very comfortable and Tracy had only kept herself from crawling under the covers for this long through sheer force of will. The brunette could safely say that Harry would not mind, or he would not have given her free leave to enter the room, but she needed to keep an eye on the map on the bedside table in front of her, to see when Harry would return from his... adventure lest he be thrown to the stressed-out blondes.

Why were they so stressed, anyway? They were the two that had actually gotten to kiss Harry, after all, which was pretty darn unfair in her mind, and they were acting like Harry was the one in the wrong! They had both kissed him, his first two kisses Tracy _knew_, right before a task in which his life was in danger, and _they_ were annoyed with _him_ because he had not sought out the conversation that would no doubt suck! At least they were nice enough to not confront him in the couple of days in which Harry was confined to the Hospital Wing; knowing her... friend, Harry would have considered jumping out of the window to escape. If McGonagall was so angry about him swearing in the middle of the Great Hall, imagine how angry she would be if he had smashed one of the windows.

Tracy's head began to droop, and she jerked upright, slapping herself to bring herself back to the present before trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes as she watched Harry's dot quickly stalk through the hallways of the Sixth floor. She failed, and rested her chin on her fist as the world began to blur, and darken as she drifted off.

-(_)-

Tracy sat up, with a start, as the door to Harry's room opened with a _bang_ and drew her wand. The wizarding weapon was pointing at the door an instant later, and hovered there for a moment, before she registered the voice that was coming from the doorway and the head of honey-blonde hair that was the target of her wand.

Daphne had grown tired of waiting in the Common Room, and decided to be proactive. Her annoyance at being followed by Fleur was obvious in her tone, as she spoke to the silver-blonde girl in the hallway next to Harry's room, though it was less significant than the amused tone with which she spoke.

"Well?" Daphne asked, with a cruel smirk. "Come on in." She offered.

"Why?" Fleur responded, with suspicion. "What will 'appen?" The French girl hissed her challenge. The Greengrass heiress would not invite her in without good reason.

After a few seconds thought, Daphne replied with her own challenge. "Anyone who enters that Harry hasn't added to the wards will be... rejected. Painfully." Her cold, violet eyes locked onto Fleur's blue and a single, perfect eyebrow arched. "Why? Do you not think that Harry would trust you enough to give you permission?"

"I do not..." Fleur frowned. "I am sure 'Arry would, but 'e may not 'ave gotten around to eet yet!" She defended, as she hesitated, looking at the door frame in a futile attempt to discern what trap Harry had set on it, or series of traps perhaps. She could vaguely see the runes etched into the wood, but had no eye for the art, and so could not begin to narrow down the affects on her that would come from the trap. It was not likely, from what she knew of Harry and, more importantly his housemates, for him to be overly merciful.

Fleur's pride wrestled with her self preservation as she looked from the magical writing to Daphe's victorious smirk, and her thoughts were running a mile a minute as she debated what the wisest course of action would be.

It was not a good thing that, in the battle between the two, Fleur's pride proved itself stronger. She would need to work on becoming less... pompous.

The realisation of her flaw was no help at the moment, and Fleur stepped through the doorway, holding her breath for the reaction of Harry's magic, and scrunched her eyes shut. She waited, with baited breath, for the pain to begin and...

It didn't.

Fleur opened her eyes again, at the sound of a huff coming from her rival, and a smirk of her own spread across her face as she realised what the absence of agony meant, and Daphne's eyes narrowed to warn her not to gloat. Fleur did not, but only because she knew that there were more pressing matters at hand. Instead, the Veela, smirk still present, brushed past the Greengrass heiress.

"What are you doing?" A voice asked of the pair, and both blonde girls' heads snapped to the bed, where they found Tracy's confused, brown eyes watching them. Daphne got over her surprise first, and decided that Tracy must have been hiding from them in Harry's room, where she could avoid any fights that may or may not have broken out between her and Fleur. Because of this, Daphne answered the question.

"I had an idea on how to find Harry, and the Froggie Vulture over there decided to follow me," Fleur did not refute the general information, though her eyes narrowed at Daphne's term for her, and so Tracy believed the statement.

"Okay... and what idea is that?" Tracy asked, as she glanced at the map that had apparently closed itself while she was asleep.

"To use the... stalker's map," Daphne said, with a slight wince at the name. Whether Harry meant it as a dig to the fact that the Marauders were creepy, or if he simply did not know the human connotation of the word when he made the magical map, she had never known. She did not like the name, either way. "And see where Harry's dot currently is."

Tracy nodded, with slight disappointment, at the validity of the plan, and raised her wand to the sheet of paper. "_I dutifully inform you that tonight I will hunt._" She intoned, and pressed the tip of her wand against the parchment that made up the map. Lines of ink eagerly spread from the point at which it made contact, and Tracy leant over the paper to begin the search from where she had last seen Harry's name.

"Aha!" She announced her success, as she located the wandering Animagus in a corridor on the Seventh floor. "I found him!" She continued, explaining her outburst as Daphne hurried over to sit on the mattress next to her best friend.

"Where?" Daphne asked, leaning over next to Tracy and raking her eyes over the parchment in search of a dot. The only one she found, though, was Argus Filch headed down to the Sixth Floor, and a guy named Charlie Wayne, the Auror on patrol today whom she vaguely remembered as one of the lower ranked law-enforcers that had to walked the castles at night while their bosses slept peacefully. After a few moments of looking, Daphne voiced her confusion.

"Okay, where did you see Harry?" Daphne asked with a frown, turning to the brown-haired girl next to her as Fleur watched the pair search the map. The Veela was not close with Tracy, though she held the girl no particular ill-will unlike Daphne, and did not want to sit in as close proximity to her as she would have to to see the map.

"Right there..." Tracy said, her tone becoming slightly uncertain as she found that the dot had vanished. "What the? His dot's disappeared." Tracy's own frown came into play here, as she pointed at the spot that had, moments earlier, held Harry's name.

"Really?" Daphne, rightly, was not convinced, and continued. "Maybe you were seeing things; I don't think that there're any passages there, after all." She supplied.

"No... no, he was definitely there, just moving back and forth in a straight line..."

"Hmm... are you sure?" Daphne asked, as she stared at the spot. Tracy nodded, and so the blonde girl shrugged. "Well, maybe Harry's found a new tunnel out of the school, or something. I can't remember, off the top of my head, what's at that point." Was there a strange portrait? Tap-dancing giants, maybe?

"That must be it," Tracy nodded, certain that she had seen Harry there. "Harry's map hasn't ever failed before, after all." She reasoned, and then moved her eyes across the map and found the Ravenclaw tower. There, she quickly found Jasmine and Caroline in their dorm room. "Huh," Tracy began. "I guess Jaz can't sleep." The dot was exiting the bathroom at the moment, and Tracy wondered if they should somehow let them know.

"Looks like it," Daphne agreed. "But we don't have an owl to hand, do we? Unless you want to send a patronus into their dorm with the other girls, we don't have a way to contact them. Unless _you_ want to go up to the owlery, that is, and I bet Harry would move by the time we'd gotten them, anyway."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Tracy nodded uncertainly. "I hope they won't be too mad." She knew she would not be happy that the others had excluded her again; it seemed that they were falling apart somehow; Daphne was not exactly sociable, and Harry had always embodied the lone-wolf persona; he would avoid social situations that encompassed crowds, and so the girls did not see him as much as they would like. With the addition of Daphne and Fleur's rivalry, not to mention their audacity in kissing Harry, Tracy, Jasmine and Caroline felt like an almost separate group.

And Tracy was on the edge even in that; she was a Slytherin while the other two were Ravenclaws. Without the other two, the off-set balance made it awkward to socialise. And Tracy _was_ sociable, She needed friends, and that was something she would address with the others over the course of the Summer Holidays, assuming she built up the nerve after Harry got back.

He was always a bit _off_ after his adventures, after all.

"Well, let's go." Daphne stood, taking the map in one hand and Tracy's wrist in the other, dragging her to her feet and yanking her towards the door. Fleur followed, ignoring the fact that Daphne had deliberately refrained from inviting her.

-()()-

"I just wish we had the map," Jasmine sighed, as she sat on the comfortable mattress of her four-poster, and bounced a little, something that would have amused her in another situation. As it was, she simply fell back onto the blue sheets sprawled out as her brow scrunched in thought. "I don't know where Harry would be!" She exclaimed, to her friend; it was fortunate that they'd erected a privacy ward or the others in their dorm would have been unhappy to be woken, and may have expressed that fact quite actively.

"We don't even know if he's in the castle!" Caroline responded, with her own annoyance at the fact clear. "He may well be out in the grounds, or in the forest!" That was one of his normal coping mechanisms after all.

"Or even in the Slytherin Common Room." Jasmine muttered, with a scowl.

"Or that." Caroline nodded. Not likely, but it was possible that some idiot had picked a fight with Harry, and that their friend had taken that opportunity to _vent_.

The two fell silent for a minute or two; both were slightly weary, but were too worried about Harry after the events earlier today, which had piled on top of the stressers he currently had in his life to push him near the brink of his tenuous sanity, to go to sleep. Both were thinking roughly the same thing, in hoping to come up with a way to help their friend.

"I..." Caroline began, and then stopped to sigh. "I think that we should wait 'til morning. I'm not happy about it, but there's no way for us to find him tonight. Hopefully the others will be in a better position to do so."

Jasmine snorted without humour. "Because Daphne's ice-cold shoulder is so good for comfort?" She asked, slightly bitter that their so-called friend had become even more bitchy than usual this year. Whether their friendship would be able to continue depended on the summer. Jasmine hoped to do her best to repair the friendship, and firmly believed Tracy and Caroline would do the same, but whether Daphne would reciprocate... who knew?

Caroline sighed her agreement, and looked at the silver bracelet that sat on her right wrist. Harry had given it to her earlier in the day, before the feast, and made it abundantly clear that he'd be able to keep track of her through it. He had explained the fact that he had his own from the Delacours, having accepted it as he kenw he could easily mess with the runes so that they gave an inconspicuous location, or said he was on the dark side of the moon, and Caroline had accepted the gift as soon as she verified that only Harry would be able to access it. She found herself almost happy with that, but would not have been willing to take it if the Delacours or anyone else could follow her movements.

"Tracy should do better," Caroline offered, optimistically. Tracy would be far better comfort, most likely, but Jasmine pointed out the obvious flaw with that logic moments later.

"But Daphne will be with her and, based on why _we_ left them, Fleur will be too. Tracy's kind and quite soft-spoken," That was true, and was not meant as any form of insult. "Those two... aren't. Trace doesn't stand a chance of reigning them in."

"Harry could... if he was in a better state of mind." Caroline shot her own point down.

"He'd probably just make it worse, anyway. He doesn't register why they fight so much, and would just say something stupid, or stay out of it for the sake of self-preservation." Jasmine loved Harry, but he was very,_ very _dense in social situations, for reasons she didn't quite get; it was almost like his humanity and instincts battled, and the parts that hindered him in human situations came out on top while everything helpful was smothered. He would not be much help if the two blondes came to blows. Or... wands.

"Fine, but can we at least start to plan some way to repair the damage? We have the entire train-journey with Harry, after all. I'm sure we can do something to alleviate his stress." At an amused, playfully sultry look, Caroline blushed. "Not what I meant. I don't want him to go into that... _state_ in _such a state_. His emotions seem to take control when he turns, and he might develop resentments..." She trailed off, with an expression of guilt hidden in the darkness.

"Resentment?" Jasmine tilted her head to one side. "What, you mean towards Bumblemore and the bitch of Gryffindor?" Jasmine mostly found the term for Mcgonagall amusing because of the contradiction between cat and dog, but this time only used it out of habit. "I'm pretty sure that's inevitable. He's going to be slandered in the Profit because of Dumbles, and doesn't hold Mcgonagall in high enough regard to forgive the dressing down she gave him. Hell, he looked seconds away from punching her when she called him a child."

The two knew that that probably bothered Harry more than most insults. He... well, he envied children. Believed he'd been cheated out of his own childhood. If one of the Potter's had called him that, they might not have had a skull by the time Hagrid pulled him off their corpse, at least in the emotional state that Harry had been in at that moment.

"No, I meant... uh, I meant he might start resenting _us_."

"What?" Caroline could swear she heard her friend's neck crack, as Jasmine turned, suddenly, to look over to her. "Why would he resent _us_?" She asked, worry in her tone.

"We've barely been there for him _at all_ this year. He's been messed with so much, and we've been pulling away." Caroline said, in a tone suggesting self loathing. "Like it's his fault that he's forced into this engagement. We haven't even _considered_ that Harry's probably terrified. That he's just putting up a _brave face_! He's never... he's never been good at crying."

Jasmine's silence spoke volumes, and Caroline rubbed at her eyes as she continued her self-criticism silently, and kicked at her cover. She might as well _try _to get some rest, since the conversation was plainly over now.

-()()-

_A place to vent_.

That's what the room provided for Harry, and he was happy, at first, to have the plain walls that had targets painted onto them. It forced him to focus on casting, and he temporarily forgot his anger, and the desire he held to find the two old fuckers and get express his... _annoyance_ with them. Maybe he'd drag his bloody parents there, too, though he wasn't certain why he was including them in his rage at the minute. Hell, why not through in a few of the effing Death Eaters. He could properly vent on the child-murdering, rapist bastards, while he'd feel that he had to hold back somewhat with the light-wizards. What they had done was not as abhorrent, after all.

What were their crimes, really? The Potters neglected Harry, and he hated them for it, but if they didn't, then what would have become of him? Would he have grown up to embrace the fame like they had? To become so self-satisfied simply because his brother had managed to survive the Killing Curse because of his grandparents', who were not given any credit, sacrifice? Would he have met the people he currently cared so deeply for, or would he have mingled with a whole other crowd? That was not a thought that Harry could bear, and so he moved onto the others.

Dumbledore? He had been a fucking idiot, but their country was governed by a fucking idiot, so their was not a massive amount of logic behind being so angry with the old man. Other than that, and some other instances of incompetence, Harry had not seen much to suggest that Dumbledore was deserving of any real torment. Maybe he suffered from PTSD, or something. There was a reason he was hailed as the man to defeat Grindelwald almost single handed; because he _had_. He had fought his way through a horde of followers before the two titans had clashed. The light Lord had then defeated another incredibly powerful wizards, and that showed just how much skill he possessed. He had killed the other man despite being halfway to magical exhaustion, and so thousands of lives had been saved. But Dumbledore loathed the notion of killing, it had probably taken its toll.

And Mcgonagall? That was entirely Harry's personal opinion. She had done nothing worthy of condemnation, as far as he knew, and had even fought against the Death Eater bastards in the first war against Voldemort. He really should let her off the hook, for being a condescending bitch, to show that he respected that much. Eventually, he probably would. Even if not, he only had to put up with the shit for one more year.

None of that helped. Harry's entire being was full of energy, as he wanted to _fight_. Wanted to lash out at the world around him.

The bullseyes were not enough.

Harry sank into a slight crouch, placing his wand onto a table that appeared with a thought, and called the room's magic to his needs. It responded, a moment later, and emerald eyes locked onto emerald eyes and twin sets of teeth bared in a silent challenge.

The muscles in Harry's legs twitched, and his clone blinked. Harry leapt forwards, and charged his doppelgänger eagerly. The other Harry responded in kind, and the two met moments later in a flurry of movement.

If one was to witness the spectacle, of Harry's fist _cracking_ into his copy's face, one might suspect that Harry had problems with himself. That he, perhaps, even hated himself more than the other people. That he thought himself, on some level, deserving of the rejection he had grown up with, and expected it to occur once again imminently.

If one was to think this, they would be hitting the metaphorical nail on its head.

As the doppelgänger spun with the blow to his jaw, involuntarily, teeth were flung from his mouth in a glob of blood and it gave a strangled grunt, mixed with a gasp, of pain. This was followed up by Harry's left hand, balled into another fist, slamming into not-his side. One of the ribs gave way to the punch, and the copy stumbled away, recovering his baring and ignoring the sharp pain as he raised his own hands in a guard, and growling at Harry.

The true Harry was surprised when his clone lunged forwards, having thought it would retreat to get a more defensible position, and so was caught unprepared by the fist that met his face, and bust his nose. Harry lashed out with his foot, and found his mark as he connected with the kneecap of his opponent. Not-Harry gave a whimper of pain, as Harry blinked away the tears that had come with his nose being broken, and gritted his teeth as he breathed through his mouth, ignoring the blood that dripped into the orifice as he capitalised on the other Harry limping away from him on a damaged, but not broken, knee without showing his back.

Harry made an intimidating figure, as he looked to be snarling a bloody grin. Not-Harry, therefore, payed more attention to the bloody teeth than he should have, and was taken off guard by Harry ducking into a crouch, and instantly leaping forwards so that his torso ran almost parallel to the ground. His shoulder met the weakened knee, and Harry _heard_ the joint break with a painful _snap_ that was promptly followed by a yelp of agony as Harry's clone fell to the floor. Harry scrambled to his feet, and kicked the broken limb, bringing another muted scream of pain as the door that he had not wished rid of opened unknown to him.

Then, Harry was on top of his doppelgänger with his fists raised as the other teen brought his hands up to cover the sides of his face. Harry noted that there definitely seemed to be a difference in skill between himself and his copy, before bringing his fists to bear, and setting them to the challenge of of repeatedly crunching into his own face.

Not-Harry was unconscious after the fifth, and Harry stopped hitting him after punch number nine. His chest rose and fell slightly faster than normal, and Harry grunted his gratitude to the room as his doppelgänger faded away.

Tracy tried to find a silver lining to seeing her friend, who she wished was more, beating an exact copy of himself to a pulp, she really did, but it was extremely difficult. The closest she could come was the fact that Fleur and Daphne would not likely fight for some time after seeing that, but, honestly, she would much prefer that to seeing Harry in this... state.

Harry tensed, where he was kneeling, and flicked his wrist. His wand sprang from its place on the table, and into his hand as the black haired teen sprang to his feet, spun, and had the tip, glowing a vivid crimson, trailed on the three. Then, his eyes widened, and the weapon in his grip shook, and then lowered as his emerald orbs moved swiftly from Daphne, to Fleur and to Tracy looking for some sign of what they were thinking.

Would they be horrified? Would they be afraid? Surely those were the logical reactions that finding him beating a clone of himself to death would inspire? Harry's mind, in the irrational state that it was, went through these two options in the seconds in which he was staring at the three girls, and they were staring, shocked, back at him. Harry's jaw clenched, and the girls stayed silent, before his wand dipped and the blood red glow subsided. Then, a more worrying thought came to Harry's mind.

If they hated him, would they attack? He knew that Daphne, at the very least, would be a serious threat. She knew a number of dark curses that Harry, even at his most rational, would avoid at nearly all costs.

Tracy stepped forward first, cautious, fully intending to give Harry a reassuring hug, and stopped at the panicked look in his eyes. She opened her mouth to reassure him, and Harry's wand twitched in his grip. Tracy tended used verbal spells, she didn't know many spells that would be useful in combat well enough to use them with a thought. Her more dangerous, creative spells would be spoken.

"Harry... please, calm down." Tracy asked, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. "There's no need to be... spooked," She used the less then accusatory term on purpose, and continued. "I'm sorry, I should have stayed with you; I should have known that it was a bad idea to let you wander off in this state." She blamed herself.

And Harry balked, confused at the fact that she was not blaming him, but _herself_, and his wand fell to his side once again.

Eventually, they would manage to calm him, and convince him that there was no need for the stress he was feeling. Nothing else would be achieved that night, however, and so the conversation that Daphne and Fleur had intended to initiate would have to wait for the train the next day.

-()()()()-

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, at two sets of cold eyes peering at him, having just now scared the Malfoy Scion to the point that Draco fled with his tail between his legs, with his cronies in tow, without a word being exchanged.

The Potter heir, who was also the head of house for two lesser known names, certainly had a stronger will than the blonde ponce he found so annoying, but Daphne and Fleur's looks were... unsettling even to him. Why they were so angry, he didn't entirely understand, but he was willing to bet it had something to do with what happened, or more specifically what the two of them had done, before the final task. He was fortunate, to say the least, that they had not cornered him before now. Harry would have considered himself _lucky_ before now; before he was stuck in a bloody train cart with them and three other girls who had for some reason agreed to keep out of it, and offer him no help no matter how much he pleaded with them, through his eyes.

"You know why we're here." Daphne said, her voice cold as she shot a glance, with more than a little loathing, at the girl to her left. Fleur ignored her, and kept her own face blank as Harry blinked. "You have to stop skating around this!" Daphne demanded of her friend and love interest, as Harry was startled by the sudden increase in volume.

The three girls on the peripheral were, likewise, not expecting the almost-yell, and their gazes snapped rather suddenly to their friend.

"And by _'this'_, you mean..." Harry had a good idea, but Daphne was temperamental enough, at the moment, that he wanted to verify that she was ticked off that he had not responded in any significant way to her kiss before he... apologised? That was another issue, what was he supposed to do here?

Daphne growled, her eyes narrowing, and spoke in a tone expressing her frustration. "That you've been _playing _with the feelings of everyone in this compartment for the past year! We've all made it painfully clear that we have an interest in you, yet you've done nought but avoid having to make that decision! You haven't even _spoken_ about it with us, for Merlin's sake! You're acting like a _coward_ who is afraid to address the mammoth in the room!"

Harry was brought up short at that, and did not get the chance to respond before the slight segregation of the other three girls shattered and Tracy snapped back at her friend. It was all to common for her to get riled up recently, and the normally kind brunette was beginning to place the blame on Daphne above any other issue. They were best friends, but that just meant that they tended to receive a free pass from the other; with the number of free passes that Tracy had been forced to give, though, it was getting ridiculous. No doubt that was why she berated her friend as she did.

"Don't call Harry a coward!" Tracy ordered, bringing the attention to her, instead of the more striking, though not necessarily beautiful, figure of Daphne. "_He_ isn't the one who is blaming another for his own failings, that is _you_! Why on Earth do you have so much trouble realising that Harry doesn't _get_ what you're going off on one about! We're," She gestured vaguely at herself, Jasmine, Caroline and Daphne. "His only friends, how is he supposed to know that the... the _affection_ we show isn't normal?! How can you expect him to realise that when he has _no fucking clue_ about anything romance related?! He has no more experience in it than we do, and you aren't confident enough to make a move on him are you?! You never had the nerve to actually _talk_ to him about dating, or having feelings for him, yet you seem to think that _he_ should! How can you justify that?! You, who thinks that the sexes should have equal rights in all things, expect Harry to initiate it because he's a _man_?!

"Or is it just that _you_ are a _fucking coward_?! Because _you_ don't even have the excuse of being... _damaged,_" She used a kind term for Harry's state of mind. "So why did you wait so long to clarify that you felt that way about Harry?! Why did you wait until after he's already been forced into an engagement to kiss him?! And _why_ are you yelling at him? What could you _hope_ to gain from alienating him?" Tracy asked, finally, with venom in her own tone, as Daphne stared at her best friend who, typically, was rather timid.

No response was forthcoming from the Greengrass heiress, and so the group fell silent for a moment, Fleur not daring to speak up lest she make her own mistake that turned the collective glares of the three not-blonde females in the room from Daphne onto her. Harry, eventually, deduced that he aught to speak since nobody else was.

"Okay, I'm not going to pretend to understand where this came from," He said, with his confusion in his tone. "I... uh, didn't know that this... issue was a thing, but I'm sorry if I seemed like I was trying to insult you? Or ignore something that mattered deeply? Honestly, I had no inclination to be involved romantically at all before this year... I guess that was a part of my development that was halted a lot by _everything_," Whether that was by his animalistic nature, the subconscious threat of castration that he had learned of thanks to the muggle father and son he had once overheard, or something... else, Harry could not know. What level of interest _that_ being had taken in him, Harry did not know. Maybe a part of its nature had been transferred? Perhaps immortals did not have the desires that humans took for granted, or suppresses them, as their interference would inevitably cause trouble for the mortal world.

"I... well, I didn't mean to upset you with all of this," He said, both to Daphne and the others. "But... eyah, I didn't know. maybe you were overt in your interest, but I didn't notice. That's not an area in which I excel..."

"An understatement if ever there was one," Caroline smiled at him, letting her friend and love interest know that it was meant in good humour, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief seeing that she did not seem to be upset, nor did the others come to think of it. Daphne looked lost in thought, and Fleur looked almost as worried as Harry was, but the other three just looked sympathetic to his plight, though that term was less literal, in context, than most of his troubles. "But... well, maybe you could give it some thought?" She requested. "Daphne's manner was harsh, but she wasn't wrong." Caroline sounded rather nervous. "Maybe you could... uhm, try taking us on dates when we come back to school? Just... just a suggestion."

"You'll be away for a while," Jasmine noted, looking at the others as she thought something over, and her brow dipped ever so slightly into a frown beneath her uniquely brilliant curtain of hair. "Maybe that would be a good time to start thinking on what you feel?" Uncertain emerald eyes moved to her, and Harry nodded after a few moments, agreeing that that would be a good course of action.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" A voice asked from the hll, and Harry cancelled the muting charm on the door that would not allow noise to escape, but would allow it to enter, relieved that there was a distraction and, so, spending an unreasonable amount on snacks. If they were eating, it was unlikely that the conversation would start again.

A few hours later, the train pulled to a stop and, with unreturned goodbyes to the two blondes, both of whom just stared at him strangely, Harry turned to the others.

"Bye, Trace," He tried to smile at the girl, and may have failed, as he continued. "Don't kill Daphne before I get back. I know she can be a handful, but you'd regret it in the long run." The girl smiled in return, saying that she would try, but would not make any promises, and he turned to the redhead in the group.

"See you soon, Caroline," Harry didn't think the name Carol suited his... friend, and so rarely shortened her given name. "Have a good time in France." Caroline assured him that she would, and that she would be back long before he, her visit to Fleur's only being for two weeks, whereas Harry typically vanished for four to six, with a small grin as she teased that she's have to put up with Gabrielle's complaints that Harry was not there, and Harry actually laughed at the thought before saying his goodbyes to a pensive Jasmine who's gaze also lingered on him in a contemplative manner.

"Look after the house, Jaz," He smiled at the rainbow-haired girl, only for it to faulter as she nodded seriously. "I... uh, I hope you have a good holiday; try not to let them destroy the house, and good luck on your project... whatever it is." He knew that that was the only reason for her to be in such an odd state, but Jasmine had not made any mention of a new interest to him and, based on the smile she gave in return, had no intention to rectify that fact. "Goodbye." He said, and Jasmine returned the sentiment.

Harry gave the girls slightly uncomfortable hugs, because of what he had learned on the train, asked them to give the others his love, since he could not see either the elder Greengrasses, Astoria, or the Delacours, and vanished into the crowd leaving all his possessions, other than what he had on his back, with his only friends.

Harry was looking forward to letting his stress fade away through the hunt that never failed to give him the expected thrill.

-()()()()-

Harry Potter, his clothing torn to shreds thanks to taking a shortcut through a forest of brambles earlier in his annual... pilgrimage, was at a relatively sedate pace up the hill on the outskirts of one of the Greengrass' homes when he first caught the unsettling sent. One that even an ordinary human would have recognised, though probably not from so far away.

Smoke.

Where there was smoke, there was fire, and that was the motivating thought in Harry's mind as his walk turned to a run, which then became a sprint, towards the hill's peak. He held hope, for a time, that there was an innocent reason for the smell; maybe Astoria had discovered the muggle tradition of bonfires, and the roasting of marshmallows that came with it, but he did not actually believe that train of thought.

He knew something was wrong even before the scream, the bone chilling scream of pain coming from Adelaide Greengrass, reached him as he reached the hilltop, and his eagle-eyes found the eight Death Eaters, at least half of their number having fallen already, with their wands trained on the people he loved. The closest thing to a family he had.

Harry did his best to ignore the fact that Astoria was bound and gagged behind the group, that Andrew's right foot was missing at the ankle and his torso had a massive gash running diagonally from shoulder to hip, and that the others each lying where they had fallen, and any noise that they might be making could not be heard over Adelaide's Cruciatus-caused wails.

The black haired teen, instead, fell forwards, his body twisting and changing, and landed on all fours in the form of a blood-thirsty Direwolf. Powerful muscles coiled, and it was charging towards the unsuspecting Death Eaters with the intent to kill radiating in its hungry emerald eyes.

The screams covered the noise of his approach well, and the dark of night allowed his jet black fur to provide ample camouflage, and so the first did not know Harry was there until the wolf's jaws were clamped around the back of his neck.

The others did not die so quickly.


	28. Hybrid

**Sorry about the long delay. I've had this chapter finished for a month-ish now, but I'm iffy on it. And on Feral, to be honest. The story is now getting to the point that I actually want to continue to write it, but it's disheartening to read reviews criticising the earlier parts of the story, in which I moved things along far too slowly and didn't have a great idea of where I wanted it to go.**

**I'm not going to leave it here, rest assured, but I can't say for sure how much longer I'll be able to muster the will to continue with this one. Unfortunately, I don't have the patience to go back and redo the beginning as has been suggested to me before. I write primarily because I enjoy it, and that would be mind-numbingly tedious.**

**Anyway, thanks to those of you who are reading even now. I will do my best to continue updating this story, at the very least to a place that could be considered satisfying.**

**But, hey, maybe this is just because I'm in a shitty mood at the minute. Hopefully I'll have more determination to continue by the time I publish the next chapter.**

**Just a reminder, I'm not JK Rowling. I most certainly do not own the world of Harry Potter.**

**-()()-**

Arthur Geiert looked on with fury, as the Greengrass clan and the two girls that had been adopted into the family finished off their evening meal. He detested them simply because of their relationship with the boy that had wronged his family. The look on his niece's face when he had told them what had happened to his brother had broken Arthur's heart; never before had he seen her cry, almost certainly because of how well his Gerrard had raised the girl, but on that day tears had gathered in her eyes as the poor girl forced a smile as she looked at her mother. Alexis had sighed as she met her daughter's eyes, and had reached over to squeeze her daughter's hand in an effort to comfort the girl as Arthur excused himself, not wanting to be there when they started blubbering as was typical of females.

Never again would his brother sit down at the head of the table, as Arthur had seen him do so many times before. Never would he exchange words with his child, conveying whatever he needed to say in such short sentences because of how well he could communicate with the girl who revered him so. Never again would he boast, to Arthur, of how he had instilled the teachings of their ancestors, passed down through generations ever since the family migrated to England from their fatherland, into his daughter so that, when the time came, she would be the perfect wife for the man who would be best able to further their family. Arthur sighed, as he thought on the display that Gerrard had been planning to arrange upon their finding a new master, to demonstrate to the highest ranked officers the desirability of Amelia as a bride either for them or for their sons. What better way than through a practical show of how willing she was to pleasure anyone whom she was ordered, even those in her family? The most desirable trait in a housewife was, after all, obedience. As long as they left her a virgin in the most technical sense, primarily using her mouth, she would not lose any worth in the eyes of the heads of the older houses. How sad that Amelia would never fulfil that purpose. After his brother had died before producing an heir, Arthur would have to continue the line. As she technically held some rights as the heiress-apparent, this would be best done by marrying Amelia to himself, and quickly impregnating his lovely niece.

First, though, there was the matter of avenging his brother's death. Arthur was angry that the estranged Potter boy was not here currently, but he had not wanted to risk convincing any of the more able Death Eaters that this was a sanctioned mission, and so it might be best to have one less object of resistance. While those with him were expendable, the good will he would gain from the Dark Lord would be more significant without an excessive number of the lower-ranks perishing. Being one of the inner circle would, thankfully, provide Arthur with enough leniency that he may even be rewarded! Assuming, that is, he was able to gain favour from his equals. He vaguely remembered Lucius saying his son held an interest in the Greengrass girls; if they were made a gift to Lucius, on the understanding that the less important orifices would be used for the pleasure of the others, then Arthur could secure favour from a significant voice in the Pureblood movement.

Bellatrix, hopefully, could be convinced so long as the pain that was caused was given to her in the form of a memory that she could enjoy at a time of her choosing. That just meant he would have to order one of the others to pay special attention to the screams of pain that would come soon, and to the creative use of other unpleasant spells that Arthur intended to use. Maybe he could even give her one of the others; while that would not appease her as greatly as she was given the Potter boy himself, she had made no secret about the fact that she held an interest in him, any new toy to play with would be welcome for the insane woman. Between she and her brother-in-law being on Arthur's side, no doubt the Dark Lord would be happy to include him more in the most intimate of councils; for some reason, he had yet to be invited despite being in the inner circle.

Unlike many of his fellows, Arthur lacked the Slytherin subtlety that would be useful in this situation, and that would be what resulted in a large portion of those he had convinced to follow him falling this night to a startled Andrew Greengrass.

Arthur pulled himself back to the present, having been lost in thought for a long moment, as the family inside the household rose from the table. As would be the case with many Purebloods, he did not even notice the House-Elves clearing the table. Instead he kept a careful vigil on the group as they approached a living room, with a fire roaring in its place, and sat in the more comfortable environment.

At this point, Arthur decided to act. It did not occur to him that it would be intelligent to wait for his would-be victims to be in a more vulnerable state, specifically when they were resting, as it would have done to one of the more capable Death Eaters.

With a nod of Arthur's head, the order was given for the man to his right raised his wand, and a voice broke the silence, muffled ever so slightly by the unadorned mask that sat upon his face.

"_Morsmordre_!" The low-ranked Death Eater believed that he was following the orders of his Lord. Fortunately, he would never find out how wrong he was. Voldemort would not get the chance to torture, or even kill, him because he would not survive the encounter.

A jet of green shot into the sky, and Arthur looked on impassively as it grew into the familiar serpent and the skull around which it coiled. No doubt he would be praised for announcing his Lord's return in such a majestic fashion. The Grey families would learn that they could not hide behind status this time around, as they had done in the first war.

The wards, minimal as they were because the family believed themselves safe, alerted Andrew Greengrass and Arthur watched the man's head snap up, and stare in their direction out the window. On the eastern side of the house, they were cast in shadows as the sun set on the opposite wall, but some meagre light must have found the silver mask of one of his fellows because the Pureblood man was on his feet in an instant, with his wand drawn and pointed at them. Around him, Arthur saw the females give exclamations of shock. Then, they caught on, and joined him as the man vanished the window between he and the attackers and a jet of light followed.

The spell answered Arthur's unasked question, of who had alerted their would-be victims, as it impacted the chest of one of his subordinates to the left. The man fell, with a gasp, and Arthur briefly wondered what the pinkish spell had been before the smell of searing flesh reached his nose.

Any hope that Greengrass thought the Death Eater alone was snuffed by the fact that he continued to cast. A deep crimson arc of light announced a cutting curse coming into their midsts, and the _Lacero_ cut a deep, long gash along the torso of the nearest Death Eater on his left-hand side. The man stumbled back, into one of his fellows, and the two fell to the floor in time to avoid the following curse, one unrecognised by Arthur, that twisted the next man's head 180 degrees, with a sick _crack_.

Then, the Death Eaters recovered from the shock, not a shining commendation of their skill, and began to fire their own attacks in return.

"Do not hurt the youngest!" Arthur exclaimed. He needed Astoria in one piece, else she would not be eligible for marriage to the Malfoy Heir. She needed to at least be able to present an image of esteem.

Arthur fell to the floor with an _eep_, as a deep purple spell rocketed through the space that had just contained his head from the wand of Daphne Greengrass. Based on the wail of pain that came a moment later, it was a good thing that he avoided it. The man behind fell to the floor, writhing in agony.

By the time the vengeful man was back on his feet, the tide of the skirmish had begun to change.

The same Death Eater who had cast the _Morsmordre_, Arthur believed his name to be Isaac, realised that they were outmatched by the group inside. They were blatantly more skilled than their numbers, but that could have been overcome by the sheer number of Death Eaters, if it was not for the fact that they were working far more in unison than was to be expected. Only two were on the offensive, the elder blonde girl and Andrew Greengrass. The others were defending against those attacks that came from the disorganised group outside.

Two of the girls, a brunette and a redhead, were maintaining a high-level shield charm, one that would not be effective if one was also to return fire as it required immense concentration and, upon falling, would drain the caster's magical energy greatly. The Lady Greengrass, and a girl with multicoloured hair, were making sure to transfigure objects and animals to take the spells that may have penetrated the shield, or bypassed it completely in the case of the unforgivables. Astoria, meanwhile, was simply levitating and banishing objects into the paths of spells to hinder the efforts of her attempted kidnappers.

The man maybe named Isaac raised his wand with a look of determination, and Arthur watched, as he pushed himself to his feet, as he pointed it at the roof of the house.

"_Bombarda Maxima_!" He cried, and the subsequent jet of light exploded against the arch of the roof. The ceiling shook, and rubble fell into the midst of the defending family. Their rhythm was disrupted, for a time, and a dark, angry red Cutting Curse caught the biggest threat, Andrew, in the chest.

The Lord almost certainly gasped, but the sound was lost under the _boom_ of yet another explosive curse hitting the nearest corner to Isaac. That had a greater effect on the house, and chunks of debris became projectiles that found the head of Daphne, the girl having stepped towards the injured Andrew.

The other Death Eaters pounced, and Arthur noticed a trio of jets of light, one a sickly green, one of the same nature as the spell that hit their adoptive father and the other so dark that it was barely visible in the descending night. Each found one of the still-standing elder girls, and Astoria screamed as blood sprayed from Tracy's face and the girl, and the others, fell without a sound.

She was silenced a moment later, as a dark blue ribbon shot from the wand of a Death Eater, enlarging in mid air and wrapping tightly around the bottom half of her face. The girl clawed at it, and found that no sound escaped. That she then waved her wand did nothing to hurt the followers of Lord Voldemort as the girl had no hope of using unspoken magic just yet. Ropes followed the gag, and wrapped around the girl, mummifying her. She fell to the ground without a sound.

Andrew Greengrass came back to the present with an infuriated yell, at seeing his daughters, and those he thought of as the same, fall to the ground. In retrospect, Arthur Geiert would realise that he should have finished the man off while Andrew was reeling from the long, deep gash running from shoulder to hip, the flesh having been surgically sliced down to the bone.

"_Reducto_!" Andrew yelled, moved his hand in a horizontal V, and the produced blue light caught one of the unfortunate Dark Wizards in his forehead. His head was expelled in a violent cloud of red mist.

The Lord jabbed his wand again, and an arrow flew forth, catching one of the few women in their group in the throat. She fell to the ground with a gurgle, and died.

"_Alarte Ascendare_!" Was the next spell Andrew used. Had he been in a calmer state, the man may have found the fact that he was replicating one of Gilderoy Lockhart's pathetic spells to be amusing. As it was, one of the Death Eaters was thrown high into the air. Andrew cast thrice more before the man hit the ground, and had spells thrown back in return. "_Aciditum_!" He announced. A dark green light splashed against a masked man's chest, and the recipient fell to his knees, screaming as his saliva turned to acid. It burned through his tongue, then his jaw, and then his throat beneath and the man fell silent.

"_Concuss_!" This spell was not as effective when wielded by Andrew as it was with Harry, his magic was not so potent, but it dealt enough concussive force to deal a great deal of damage to the victim. It was not, however, quick enough to prevent Isaac from returning fire, even as his fellows sent their own spells and embarrassingly missed by a rather large margin.

"_Imputresco_!" A brown spell was not affected by the rippling air, and Isaac's wand stayed in the vague direction of Andrew. The Lord _tried_ to move away, as the Death Eater was thrown back with great force even as his bones shattered. The father Greengrass failed, and the spell connected with his right foot.

"Andrew!" Adelaide cried, as her husband fell to one knee, and she saw his jaw clench. She rose from her knee next to her youngest daughter, where she had been trying and failing to cut away the ropes. They were not ordinary, and it would be the Ministry curse-breakers, deployed in full force due to the fear of the Mark above their house, who managed to remove them. The woman stepped forwards, with her wand raised and a hateful countenance on her face. "_Avada Kedarva_!" She was not one for overly creative fighting, and the killing curse flew from her wand in a vicious green jet of light.

Arthur was, yet again, taken off guard by the use. In fact, his jaw fell open in unison with his still standing fellows who numbered around 15 at this time as he watched it strike a tall masked member of their group. The man fell back, dead as a doorknob.

How could she, a housewife, have the… the determination to use the Killing Curse so effectively? Not even all of the Death Eaters could summon the force of will to sever the bonds between body and soul…

"_Stupefy_!" Her wand cut through the air again, and one of the men fell to the floor in a heap.

"_Expelliarmus_!" An 'Eater shot the comparatively harmless spell, and Adelaide's wand was torn from her grip.

"Bitch." The same man bit. "You killed him! Y-you killed my…" He trailed off. "I loved him! _Crucio_!"

Adelaide's screams tore through the air, and through the cloud of pain that covered Andrew's senses.

He forced himself to his feet, his weight supported by only his left foot, and pointed his wand down. "_Diffindo_." He groaned, and the severing charm took his foot clean off. The slightest of sighs revealed that the worst of the pain left with the decaying flesh, and he growled low in his throat.

"_Bombarda_!" He snarled, and the man casting the spell erupted in a shower of gore as the explosive magic connected with his chest. He turned. "_Avad-_"

The red light of a stunner slammed into his chest, and Andrew's world went dark.

"Grab them," Arthur spat at his subordinates as he pulled the mask off his face, "And bring them out here. We'll start with the bitch mother. You can have your fun once she's broken." The new head of the Geiert family was not willing to risk showing that he could not match the now dead homosexual's Cruciatus. "You," He pointed at one random person. "Torture her. I have heard good things about your ability with the curse; show me that the rumours were not false." There were no rumours, but the last of the female accompaniers puffed up at the compliment, he assumed she was new as he held so much sway, and strode forwards with determination in her stride. None of the others removed their masks, and would not until they were permitted by the leader of this raid.

The woman began to writhe within moments, her nerve-endings still sensitive from the implementation of the curse less than a minute prior. Arthur watched hungrily, knowing he would go first, and was only vaguely aware of the fact that the others levitated the unconscious members of the Greengrass clan out into the yard.

Astoria and her sister would be left untouched, but the group would have their fun with the others once Arthur decided that Adelaide had been tortured enough. Maybe they would wake Andrew, so that he could watch. The sadistic glee they would gain from such a thing would help boost their esteem in the eyes of several Death Eaters, Bellatrix especially, if the memories were gifted to them.

-()()()()-

The taste of blood was barely noteworthy to Harry, as his instincts took over. The metallic, salty taste was not particularly pleasant but after so long hunting with barely an interval the animagus was content with the flavour as it mixed with the marrow of the Death Eater's spine. The man, the nearest of the group whose lives were forfeit, did not have time to scream before he slammed into the ground under the administration of the Direwolf's immense weight.

Blood ran down the shaggy ebony fur of the wolf's maw, as he rose once again from the crouch into which he had fallen. With a sharp movement, Harry tore the flesh, and a portion of the bone, from the dead man's neck.

The screams of Adelaide ceased, as the female Death Eater and her fellows twisted to look at the new arrival. Shadowed eyes, covered by masks, froze under the hateful, malevolent shine in the emerald eyes of the wolf. Everyone was still for a handful of heartbeats, and then the silence was broken.

The will of one of the Death Eaters, a new recruit, broke at the sight. The boy screamed. The wolf's legs coiled. Harry lunged, and the boy's wand rose halfway before the wolf slammed into him with a series of _cracks_ to announce that the Dark Wizard's ribs had broken. Harry did not bother to make sure he was dead, leaving him to whimper and die pitifully as he threw himself at yet another enemy, his teeth bared and stained red for the time being.

His paw lashed out, claws gleaming, as a killing curse narrowly missed him. The heavy limb _crunched_ into a mask, and the owner of said mask fell with the caved in temple hidden by his mask. Harry landed, sank into a low crouch, and growled as his hackles rose.

He lunged forwards, and passed by one of the men. A green curse caught the human in the chest, and the man fell back with a shocked look on his face. Harry's trajectory carried him into the legs of another of Voldemort's followers, and the man's knee broke with a _click-crack_. The man yelped, as he was tossed over the Direwolf's back.

Harry's heavy paw, claws detracted, _punched_ into the soft flesh of his throat, and crushed the man's windpipe. He died with a panicked mindset, desperately clawing to try to reopen the vital passage.

"_Lacero_!" The spell trimmed the hairs on Harry's back, which would carry over to his human head of hair, but failed to do any damage beyond superficial. Harry snarled, and relished in the slight fear he found in the just-visible eyes of the man as the air around them rippled. He had made a good deal of progress over the past few months, and this situation pushed him further than he had been able in his happy, hunting state. Necessity predicated progress throughout the history of humanity, after all.

It would have been embarrassing for the man to whom the girlish scream belonged, had he survived long enough to feel humiliation as the wolf reared back onto his hind legs, and his body _changed_.

It would be some time before Harry decided upon a name for this form, or the similar alternatives provided, but the most fitting label would be of a wolf-man. Not a werewolf, of course, but an appearance that would call that mythology to the minds of many a muggle.

The screaming man was silenced by two gorilla-sized fists impacting on either side of his skull. The bone, and grey matter beneath, gave way and gore splashed over Harry's snarling muzzle. He gave no reaction, other than for his long, dark-furred fingers to unclench and the claws to shine in the light of the setting sun. As he leapt forward on thick-muscled legs, their lethality was restated as they whistled through the air.

The nails met their target, another who had been too slow to recover from the shock of seeing the wolf transform into something close to a man, if the most intimidating man that he had ever laid eyes on. The sharp protrusions tore a chunk of flesh from the Death Eater's throat, and threw him aside. To an observer, it would have looked like a toddler having a tantrum and throwing aside one of its toys. If they toy was able to leave a trail of bloody mist in the air as it fell, and if the toddler was then likely to turn on his others.

Arthur Geiert was Harry's next target, and the fear was far more obvious on his uncovered face than on any of his subordinates as Harry's open jaws closed around his forearm, raised to cover his face. The Death Eater gave an exclamation of pain as the powerful jaws clamped around his arm, cut through flesh, and _crunched _through bone. The highest-ranking Death Eater present jerked back even as Harry wrenched in the opposite direction and shoved the Dark Wizard away

Arthur screamed, as his arm was separated at the elbow. Blood spurted from the stump, and his allies were pulled back to the present.

"_Avada Kedarva_!" One of them cried. The green light was dull, and the man who had sent it knew, even as it struck Harry, that he had lacked the fortitude that was required to sever the soul from the body. The only purpose it served, then, was to pull the wolf-man's attention to him. And to end his life prematurely as Harry's heavy paw swung and _crunched_ into the side of his head. The man fell like a sack of bricks, and did not rise again.

"_St-Stupefy!_" The last of Arthur's allies was young, and this was proven as his voice cracked as he tried one last attack. For a single moment, hope gleaned in his eyes as his spell lit up the world around him in a red hue. Everyone knew that emotion could supercharge spells, and his almost debilitating fear was enough to knock even this wolf-hybrid to the ground, surely.

Then, the hope died. His spell missed. The man screamed. Ivory teeth closed around his throat, and the sound was cut off for good.

A _crack_ rang through the air, as Arthur let the wards fall and he apparated with one glance at his fallen comrades and the dismembered forearm that had previously been attached to his body.

The world fell still, after that. The silence was only permeated by the low growls emanating from Harry's black-fur covered, corded chest. They soon faded away, and turned to strangled sounds of concern; not a noise that came naturally to this form.

He lumbered over to the smallest figure, and established that Astoria was fine.

Then, he went to the most obviously injured figure. The man who stank of blood. Andrew would live. He would be crippled, but he would live.

Next came the victim of torture. Adelaide twitched and spasmed thanks to the post cruciatus effects, but that was the only injury they had inflicted on her and the humanity that had begun to creep its way back to the surface of Harry's psyche was relieved.

The wind changed, and Harry caught the strong scent of blood coming from Tracy. He moved quickly to her side, and turned her over. In his haste he scratched her arm, but in comparison to the injury that was revealed that was insignificant. He whined at the sight of a long gash running diagonally down her face, and a long tongue wiped the grime off her face. She shivered at the strange sensation, and Harry gave a noise not unlike a sigh of relief.

Daphne, too, smelled of blood. He found, however, that it was an injury easily fixed. Unlike the others she had not been put under the effects of any dark curses and so would be fixed easily by any professional Healer.

Harry then moved to the two that, in his sluggish animal mind, were the least injured. From what he could see, smell and hear, Jasmine and Caroline were fine. They did not have a mark on them and, so, he could not understand why they did not move. The wolf-man nudged Caroline with his nose, and made a confused sound as she gave no sign of waking. He licked her face, and she stayed still.

Maybe Jasmine would know what to do. With that in mind, he butted her with his head, and waited for her to wake. She didn't, and the sound of befuddlement came again. A rumbling bark did not bring them out of their revine, and Harry felt trepidation crawl to the forefront of his mind. He growled, and gained no response.

Then, the Animagus softly nuzzled into Jasmine's throat, in search of a pulse. He felt nothing, and his whine caught in his throat. He moved to Caroline, with some desperate hope that she would show him how Jasmine was fine and her heartbeat was just soft. Soft, despite the adrenaline-inducing experience she had just been through.

Again, he felt nothing.

Harry's large hand shoved Caroline, and he growled. She flopped to the side, but gave no sign of life. Nor did Jasmine, when he did the same.

He barked. And again. A pleading sound came from his throat, as he reached the inevitable conclusion.

The Animagus tilted his head to the sky, fell to his knees, and howled.

His form shifted, and the howls of a wolf turned to the cries of a man.


	29. Malfoy Manor

**Here's another update to Feral. Thank you all for the kind words since my last update, it's good to hear that you want me to continue with the story. For now, I expect that I will continue as this is one of the stories I have been more interested in writing for despite not having a whole lot of time. This chapter is one that will eventually be important, and is a good demonstration of Harry's new attitude, but is quite short as I decided to end it here.**

**Anyway, the only issue I'm having at the moment is that I feel I'm pushing the boundaries of a T rating and so I may have to bump it up to an M soon. I probably should have done already, but I want to give you all fare warning on the change in case you struggle to find it afterwards.**

**As a reminder, I own nothing.**

"_CRUCIO_!" A voice screamed, with a hissing undertone. The volume was overshadowed, however, by the screams that followed. They tore through the air, deafening for the dozen people in the room with torturer and tortured. They did not show the discomfort that came with the assault on their eardrums, though; they did not want to share a similar punishment.

Arthur Geiert writhed on the floor, and the pain of his throat tearing from the screams was insignificant. His Lord and Master's cruciatus curse was worse than any pain he had suffered through before. Worse, he would bet, than the pain _anyone_ had endured; the Dark Lord's torture curse was on a level of its own. Even Bellatrix's well-practised curse could not stand against it.

He screamed and screamed and screamed, and Voldemort's face remained twisted into a furious sneer. His wand point stabbed the air, as his magic burned Arthur's every nerve.

Arthur caught a glimpse of Bellatrix leering at him from Voldemort's side, and would have been understandably creeped out had he been capable of coherent thought. Instead of that, the shamed man dragged air into his lungs and then wailed once again as he spasmed on the floor.

The pain stopped, and Arthur vomited as Voldemort sneered. And the others, perhaps, because of the pathetic showing. Whether they did was unclear due to the masks adorning each Death Eater's face. It was also unimportant, as Voldemort spoke.

"Despicable." He flicked his wand, and the vomit dripping down Arthur's front set fire. Arthur screamed. The Dark Lord spoke over the howls of pain and panic. "Weak. Unworthy of the title of one of my followers. You will die for defying me; your family will burn and your name will fade into dust. Understand this, and you will know that _this_ is not redemption. This is _punishment_ for your STUPIDITY!

"_Nagini_." This hisses were nonsense for Arthur, but the meaning was clear as the Dark Lord's familiar slivered out of the shadows. The one-armed man felt its eyes on him, even under the fire, and would have cried was his face not now on fire. Freezing water extinguished the fire and had the plus side of punishing the exposed nerves; contrasting nicely to the burning they had endured moments before.

"Your idiotic acts have only been prevented from ruining my pans thanks to the competence of Lucius. Was it not for his actions, you would be experiencing much worse before your life ends." Voldemort waved his wand, and the mask on the Malfoy Lord's face vanished. The platinum blonde man looked briefly smug before schooling his expression again into apathy. "And so Nagini will only devour you after the act. It is not pleasant for her, either, having a person alive as she digests him and so I will not force her to endure it over such a pitiful whelp as you.

"Nor are the Dementors in our number yet. Soon they will join us, but I will not keep you alive for long enough to give you to them. And so your death will be will not be painless, but it will be quick." Arthur saw, through the eye not welded shut, that a smile stretched across his Lord's face. "First, though, I will let my _loyal_ followers have their fun. Be glad that you are not female; I will not encourage homosexual acts. Such depravity belongs with the Muggles.

"Bellatrix." Voldemort looked to the woman next to him, and a grin spread across her face as she raised her crooked wand.

"Wait… please…" Arthur whispered.

"'Please'? Please what?" Voldemort asked.

"Please… my Lord…"

Voldemort laughed. A mocking sound. "You misunderstand," He slashed his wand through the air, and a dagger of fire cut across Arthur's face. His remaining eye burned, and the world fell dark. "I WANT TO HEAR YOU BEG!"

-()()-

They were back at the Greengrass ancestral home.

Well, five of them were. Two of them had been buried shortly after being pronounced dead; Tracy couldn't cry anymore over Jasmine and Caroline. They had only now returned from the funeral, and she was dehydrated from the tears she had shed over her lost friends.

They all had cried. Daphne's tears had fallen slowly; as if even they were confused that the cold girl was crying. Tracy had wept openly as they were lowered into the ground, struggling to breathe as she was racked with sobs and her teardrops ran down her scar. Adelaide had leant against her husband as her own tears fell in a steady stream, while Andrew tried to remain composed as one arm held his crutch and the other wrapped around his wife. Astoria had buried her face in Harry's shirt, unable to look at the tombstones.

All of them had cried except Harry. He had stared blankly at the corrins as they were lowered, and his hands had shaken as he hugged the crying girl. But he had not cried himself. Not a single tear of Harry's had fallen since he found the family under attack.

He had not returned with them.

Tracy didn't know where he had gone, but she had a good idea.

She hoped he killed them all.

-()()-

The Head of House Malfoy rubbed his head, as he sat down heavily behind his desk. The conversation with the Minister was _vital_, but frustrating. Even the pathetic man had been forced to confront the evidence of Dark-Wizard activity by the appearance of the Dark Mark. Lucius had steered him to the Aurors office, and they would soon find the tip sent in by Arthur Geiert's niece pointing the finger at her uncle. Considering the way Andrew Greengrass had fought against the attacking Death Eaters, and he had claimed all of the deaths were caused by him, it was well within the realms of possibility that he would have taken revenge on the man responsible. That would be the reasoning Lucius would present to Fudge upon discovery of Arthur's mangled corpse and, since Andrew held a significant amount of sway in the government and Arthur's detached arm, complete with Dark Mark, had been matched back to the man, nobody would bother investigating what had happened.

The fiasco would increase Fudge's paranoia, and the general public might be more likely to believe Dumbledore on the matter of Lord Voldemort's return, but Lucius was proud to say that he would be able to twist it to their advantage. He had remained _loyal_ to the government through the ordeal, after all, and so Fudge would be all the more trusting of him. Therefore, Fudge would heed his advice and would never trust Dumbledore again. No doubt the old fool would even lose the Chocolate Frog cards he was so damn proud of upon the government launching a true slander campaign against him. The Boy-Who-Lived, too, would suffer.

Lucius sighed. Not for the first time in the past day, he wondered why his Lord and Master had given him the specific order to leave the elder Potter boy alone. It would make everything easier, and more fluid, if they could pin it on the child; he was well known to have psychological issues. Lucius could have given a riling speech on how he had killed Arthur Geiert and his family to avenge the deaths of the two girls, and the mutilation of his father-figure and Tracy Davis. The boy would not even be taken to Azkaban, he would be taken to the secure ward of St Mungo's for rehabilitation. Yet the Dark Lord wanted him free. What was his reasoning? The Malfoy Lord did not dare ask.

"Sir?" A voice asked, and Lucius looked at the black haired young man in the doorway to his office. "How did it go?"

Lucius sneered. "Do not presume to ask me such things, Pucey." The heir to his house looked down, as Lucius glared at him. "And why are you not ready? You are to leave within the hour for the raid, yet you seem wholly unprepared. Do you _intend_ to disappoint our Lord?"

"No, sir." Alan Pucey shook his head. "I just-"

"Do not answer back to me!" The platinum-haired man barked. "Do so again at your own peril; if you did not have a mission tonight I would punish you here and now. If I cannot deliver it now, I will give you to Bellatrix. You do not want that, I assure you."

Alan nodded, but stayed silent.

"Good." Malfoy waved him out of the room, before standing himself and walking over to the bookcase on the office's far wall. He laid a finger on the ornate carving of a snake's head, and its mouth opened to reveal sharp ivory teeth. Lucius cut his hand on them, and let a drop of blood fall onto the space between its eyes. His wand slid outside the snake's head, and Lucius took it into his hand and left the room with a swish of his cloak to descend to the floor below where he was to brief his inferiors.

"None of you will die tonight," He told them, eying each in turn as they pulled on black cloaks with heavy hoods. "This mission is not a fair representation of those you will have in the future, because the war has yet to begin. The threat muggles present is nothing compared to even the lowliest of wizards. Even the Mudbloods _have wands_. Muggles do not, and so you will encounter no difficulty in this mission so long as you exercise caution. Eventually the credit for this night will be bestowed upon you, but for now we must not be blatant in our activities. The Wizarding public do not understand the need for our cause, so we have to use means that will inspire fear in the Muggles but not our own; that is why you have been ordered to use explosive spells instead of the Killing curse once you have had your fun. They will blame each other, and it will not attract the attention of our media." Lucius finished. "Are there any questions?" No answer came, and so Lucius nodded. "Good. In that case- what the?"

Something warm splashed on the back of Lucius' neck, and he reach up and touched it before bringing his fingers to his eye level to identify the liquid. His fingers were stained red, and it only took him a moment to realise what it was.

"Blood?" He blinked, and turned on the spot. Lucius' eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

Pucey's body ended at his shouldered, while what had once been his head was now splattered across the walls of the room, and those who were stood nearest to the young man.

Malfoy's mind did not arrive at the inevitable conclusion in time to warn the next Death Eater, and he watched as a jet of blue light struck him in the neck and drilled through, opening a hole out of which blood poured even as the man fell to the floor. His spine was missing several vertebrae, and his death was quick.

The next spell followed the second's path, and found no resistance until it struck the wall. There, it exploded and chaos ensued.

-()()-

Lucius Malfoy's breath was laboured as he ran in an awkward, limping gait. The screams of his fellows, and the staff that worked on his estate, reached his ears. He payed them no heed other than to run faster.

Smoke billowed into the sky, and Lucius felt fear grip his heart as the screams were hidden by an earth-shaking roar. The roar of the animal that attacked his family home.

No. Not an animal. Of the _wizard_ that attacked his home. That had been clear by the curses they'd been bombarded with. And even more by the figure silhouetted by their return fire; illuminated for a moment before _it_ transformed.

Thank Merlin Lucius had sent his son, and pregnant wife, to safety. His family _had to_ continue and, truth be told, he did not expect to escape. His dark cutting curse had _connected_, but the person had not even flinched. It just kept coming, with blood matting its fur.

100 metres until the apparation point. He had covered his grounds in the wards in preparation for war; who could have predicted they would trap him with his attackers instead of preventing the attackers getting close? Had his house not collapsed, Lucius would have made it to the inside escape route protected by a password only he and his Lord knew. But that was not an option; he would have died had he stayed, and so he left his subordinates as a distraction and fled. Unworthy behaviour of a Malfoy, but Lucius was smart enough to know when to cut his losses. His family home was not as important as his life. The lesser people were not worth even his fingernails.

Lucius cried out as his leg gave under his weight, the deep gouge having taken a large chunk of muscle and flesh from him. He threw his arms out but not in time; his chin bounced off a stone, and blood burst as it won the fight with his face. He ignored the pain, and stood while supporting his weight with his left leg. He tested his right, and winced as he fought through the pain and moved forwards unsteadily.

The limp was far more pronounced now; Lucius dragged his bum leg along behind him with tears gathering in his eyes. He fumbled for his wand and held the two halves together as he pointed the tip to his pain-riddled thigh. With no small amount of focus, Lucius cast a healing charm. The result was a burning flash of white light. It rebounded on him, and the wizard was lifted off his feet and thrown to the floor. Fortunately, the spell did what it was supposed to, and the flesh was cauterized. The bleeding stopped, and scar tissue filled in the hole as the effect was complete.

The roar sounded again as Lucius shoved himself to his feet. Some part of him noticed that screams had stopped, but it was not important to the elder Malfoy as he soldiered on. 60 metres now. Lucius could see the tree marking his property's end, and _craved_ the safety it represented.

40 metres. The pain faded to a dull afterthought; the blonde man could almost _feel_ his wife's embrace. Then, Lucius would find the bastard who did this. His master would help, and they would _burn_ the fucker. A Mudblood lover, he was sure. Not a Mudblood himself, else he would not have this level of power.

30 metres. He dared to hope.

20 metres. Malfoy prepared to apparate.

10 metres.

Malfoy cried out, as something hit him in the back of the head. He went down, and got his hand out in time to catch himself. It, however, snapped with a sick sound as his weight landed on it awkwardly. Another cry of pain burst from his lips as he cradled the limb.

Even as he sat up, a shiver ran down the government official's spine. His grey eyes searched the darkness, and widened upon finding the projectile. He gasped, and with his left wrist and legs pushed away from the empty eyes of one of the Death Eater's disembodied head.

"What the…" Lucius breathed. "Who are you?! Why are you doing this?!" He demanded. His voice cracked as the words pierced the silent air.

No answer came for a handful of seconds. And, then, a rumbling growl froze Lucius to his core. Because it originated from the point an inch behind him.

Lucius Malfoy's world went dark in a flash of pain from the base of his skull.

-()()-

Harry Potter wiped the blood from his chin as he walked towards the Malfoy Manor with Lucius' corpse floating in the sky behind him. The teenager wore a pair of summoned Cargos because his change had been sudden, and the cool breeze helped his mood to cool.

He arrived at the rubble of Malfoy Manor, and waved his hand. Malfoy floated to the destroyed house, sans his marked arm that stayed in the air behind his killer, and Harry dropped him to the floor. The corpses of Death Eaters did not, in his mind, deserve respect.

The other dead people joined him, each missing a limb, and Harry moved onto those who were unconscious. Injured, in many cases, but alive. And that was the important fact.

"_Obliviate_." He said fifteen times. Beneath their lids, each person's eyes almost certainly glazed over. Harry did not know whether he took too much memory of theirs. Nor did he care. Had any of them fought for their employer, Harry may well have used lethal force. They didn't care about the Malfoy family, though, so the teen let them be.

Ropes bound them, and Harry checked they were too far away to be burned before raising his hand.

"_Fiendfyre_." He intoned, with the instruction to burn the remains of the building and then _stop_. The fire obeyed, and leapt from his palm in a flaring spark. The fire was soon to follow, as it came alive with the intention to _burn_.

Harry watched the ember grow rapidly, forming the image of a four-legged beast before growing into the wildfire of the Dark Curse. Wild because he had restrained its sentience.

Harry tilted his head to the side, as the smell of burning flesh filled the air. He brought a hand to his mouth, and a bubble formed over the lower half of his face; the smell fell away as he judged the control he held. The fire tested the edges of the building, and some part of it strained against his mind. Harry pushed back, and the fire fell in line as he turned his gaze onto the still living people here with him.

With a sigh, Harry conjured a length of rope. "_Portus_." The rope glowed blue, before rising into the air and snaking around them. Harry checked all were included, nodded to himself, and spoke again. "_Activate_." They seemed to spin before vanishing, and Harry looked at the burning house again and the fire that clawed for release.

Harry shrugged to himself, and turned away while releasing the limited control he had. The fire raged as the sole living soul within a mile walked towards the edge of the wards as his wand flew from the darkness into his hand. He had left it there for retrieval once he was done, and now he was. He turned the point on himself, and began to clean the gore from skin and hair.

Harry Potter was done by the time he could apparate, and turned on the spot with a final look back at the torrent of orange and black. It was fortunate the House Elves had held no personal loyalty to the House of Malfoy. Upon both the Head of House dying and the house itself falling, every one of them had vanished with a _pop_. He assumed.

The Potter-Peverell teen turned on the spot, and left the Death Eater's land to burn.

-()()-

When Harry's feet touched the ground again, the world was truly dark. No longer alite with the cursed fire fed by the Malfoy-Manor kindling.

Harry sat down on the cool grass and frowned, blinking twice as his eyes fell on the gravestones in front of him. Crossing his legs, Harry laid each hand on his corresponding knee and waited for something to happen.

_Surely_ there had to be something more than this. More than being _numb_ after two of the people he cared about, and that list was _short_, died. Died because of the whims of a madman, and the disgusting weak minded bastards who took his word as gospel.

That wasn't quite true. Harry felt something. And that something had led to him killing dozens of people tonight. For the sake of avenging their memory… for the sake of… of… what? Of making _himself_ feel better? This wasn't going to bring either girl back from the dead!

Yet he would not stop. Wouldn't stop until each and every one of them was dead. So there _must_ be a reason to do it. One better than a selfish need to slaughter Death Eaters.

To protect the people _still here_? That would be the decent answer. To prevent others from dying? From going through what he was going through? That would be the answer a _good_ person would give, Harry supposed. Perhaps it was even a factor, for him to protect the people he cared about. But others… no. No, he didn't care about them. If he did, it would not require _this_ for Harry to get involved. He would save the world on principle, not just when the circumstances presented themselves or as an effect of his actual motivation.

And Harry was back to the initial thought. Was it just revenge? Was there any way this could help Jasmine and Caroline? If there was… what was it?

He sighed, and rubbed his right eye to alleviate an itch. It came back wet, and a small smile appeared on Harry's face. That was a good sign.

-()()-

Tom Riddle smiled as word of Lucius' fate reached him. Losing his left hand was nothing in comparison to the furthering of his plans.

Harry Potter's grip was slipping. It would not be long now.


	30. Returning to Hogwarts

Harry hissed his annoyance as he left bloody thumbprints on the slightly crumpled parchment. Dropping the paper back onto his desk, Harry wiped his hands clean on the torn, ruined trousers he wore. The teenaged Wizard then picked the letter addressed to himself, and began to read with calm eyes. The script was very neat. Flowing.

_Harry,_

_I am sorry that I haven't sent this letter before now… We received the news of what happened only days after, but the notion of trying to express my sympathy, as well as that of my family, was not a task that I was willing to take lightly. Finally, I have realised that it is silly to try to express such a thing in written form; just know that I cried for them, and that I hope you are_ _unhurt._

_Please do not do anything reckless. While I cannot say that I understand what you are going through, they would not want you to put yourself in danger out of a need for revenge; even a Triwizard champion would not make it out of a confrontation with such Dark Wizards uninjured._

_And I_ _Please take care of yourself, and tell the others that I wish them a speedy, full recovery._

_See you soon,  
><em>_L__  
>Fleur<em>

Below, there was another note written in an attempted imitation of Fleur's script, though Gabrielle had a ways to go before it was quite so... fancy. And Harry got the feeling that hers had been written using some method of translation spell, likely either in the ink or the quill Gabrielle had written the lengthy paragraph with. The length suggested she didn't quite understand the concept at her tender age.

_Hello Harry! I hope you are well, I miss you very much and hope you are having a good summer! We've been travelling to celebrate Fleur's being one of the selected champions, and have had a lot of fun! We went to Canada to see some of our cousins, and then went down into America to visit some of the sights of the Magical dispute. Did you know that they still use rituals instead of wand-magic? It's very long, but they put on a display for Papa that included fireworks! It was very pretty! They gave me a talisman too that wards off evil intentions but I don't think it works very well except to scare our cat, Monsieur Pipsqueak! You have to come and meet him soon, I think that he will really like you! One of his eyes is green, too! Will you come and visit us at Christmas? I hope you will! I can show you around our estate, and we can go for a picnic, and I can show you the drawings I've done of you, and you can see Fleur's room too if there's time! Mama says I have to go to bed now! I hope to see you soon!_

_Love  
>Gabrielle<em>

It took Harry a few attempts to absorb all of the words on the page, and that was what warned him of his tiredness. Smiling softly at the little girl's enthusiasm, he began to clean the blood and grime from his skin. After, he would try to get some sleep. It had been elusive recently, but the magical world had not given him much in the way of a solution to his exhaustion. The only thing that worked so far was the adrenaline that coursed through his veins in the process of a hunt.

-()()-

"Thomas!" Hermione Granger exclaimed, slamming open the door of their shared compartment in her haste. "Come quick!"

"Wuzza?" The-boy-who-lived asked, blearily, as his eyes opened and he fell off his seat. Ron, shockingly, continued to snore undisturbed by the commotion

"Your brother! Your brother! You have to- to help!" She summarised.

Thomas stayed on the floor, blinking, as he processed the information he'd been given. Then, he hurriedly rose to his feet and followed the stressed girl away from their claimed seats and towards the commotion occurring in the halls.

-()()-

As Harry sat opposite her, Tracy gained a look of concern. The young man could guess why; the dark bags under his bloodshot eyes presented an unhealthy image and had gained him a handful of curious looks as he walked through the station to platform 9¾ both in the mundane area and that of the wizarding population.

Fortunately, none of them had been willing to risk the wrath of the limping, muscular teenager with sharp teeth and ragged clothes.

Sharp teeth. Harry was curious about that slight change, but it was far from the most concerning aspect of him at the moment; insomnia took precedence over elongated cuspids. Especially when it was leading to something… else.

His reassuring smile must have come out as a pained grimace, based on the fact that Tracy's worry only seemed to grow. So did Daphne's, though hers was only a morbid look in the eye. Even if it had been the expression he had intended, it would have fallen away as Tracy tried to hide a flash of pain. She stiffened, and Harry's hand twitched before his friend succeeded in dismissing her own problem in favour of his.

Warm brown eyes bored into cold green, as the train _chug-chugg_ed to life. Harry leant back against the headrest, as he battled weariness. He would have to start making some Dreamless-sleep potion when he got to Hogwarts; stunning himself was a poor substitute to slumber, and the risk of addiction and through it withdrawal was overshadowed by the notion of dreaming again.

Harry fingered the shrunken-trunk in his pocket, but it was a bad idea. Even a Pepper Up Potion would be greeted with disapproval; if they found out what he was injecting himself with… well, there was a reason Harry couldn't use it as a long-term solution.

In another section of the trunk, there was a collection of belongings that were not Harry's. He only had a vague idea of what he would do with them, but the space wasn't needed for anything else. And the now-deceased Death Eaters certainly did not have any use for them.

Of course, their families might appreciate the nic-naks, but why would Harry care about that? He would not go out of his way to kill them, but stealing insignificant items from the families of people he hated certainly wasn't the cause of his losing sleep.

How many of them had he killed now? Harry had lost count; some of the gatherings were large and the effort of sorting the body parts to check which arm belonged with which head and whether those three bloody pieces slotted together to form a single leg just seemed… bothersome. Tedious.

As Harry was thinking of the elder, and the charred remains he had left in the ruins of his manor, the younger Malfoy's muffled voice reached his ears from outside the compartment.

"Put your fucking wand away, Greengrass." Harry's eyes snapped open; when had they closed? And they found Daphne. She was sat there, staring at the doorway with a frown with her hand going to draw her wand. It definitely wasn't her that Draco was talking to. Andrew and Adelaide weren't on the train, either. Their _could_ be one amongst the First Years with that name, but what chance was there of one being fool enough to draw a wand on a Fifth year?

Astoria probably didn't put her wand away, but it wasn't important whether or not she did as the door burst open and revealed the surprised face of the platinum blonde boy. Harry's wand was pointed at said face, with red sparks spitting into the air between them, as the older boy sat at attention.

"POTTER!" Malfoy screamed. Harry's eyebrow raised in response to the furious pitch; Draco had sounded rather calm from the sentence Harry had heard. It was almost impressive that he had gained such control in the months since term ended. Less so that it had failed him upon seeing Harry face to face, but that mistake was understandable.

Next to Draco, his henchmen fumed. Both Crabbe and Goyle were baring their teeth with furious growls and hate in their eyes, and Harry's mind went back to the events of his summer as he identified whose death had angered them so.

He had long suspected that the two were the product of some rather serious inbreeding between magical families. Likely they were second cousins at least, if Harry was correct in that the two were descended from the same mountainous tribe. Maybe one of the women had rutted with a troll, whether intentionally or through force, and the genes were dominant in the two. But maybe the two couples with unnaturally strong resemblances had been the reason; if there was a history of inbreeding in the family, relations between a brother and sister would result in… well, in something very similar to Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

The four troll-like adults hadn't been skilled. Not in any way, shape or form; Harry, in his wolven form, had not been slowed for a second by their bulk as he barrelled through and his claws lashed out. They had fallen to the floor with heavy, wet thuds as their insides dropped first. Then, Harry had carried on through to the bigger game he was hunting; those who Riddle may actually miss.

Harry hadn't been sure before now that Crabbe and Goyle were intelligent enough to feel anything for a significant period of time. He had assumed that their attention spans were lower than he could comprehend, but maybe they _could_ focus on things that made them angry as well as the eternal hunger they seemed to be cursed with.

"Yes?" Harry asked, in response to Draco's infuriated scream. Malfoy's weight twitched from one leg to the other, and his hand plunged into the pocket of his robes as Crabbe and Goyle's self-control snapped. The two charged forwards, shouldering past their leader, and slammed their bulk into the taller teen. Harry's wand did not move to the two as they approached.

Harry fell backwards, and stumbled too quickly into the opposite wall of the cabin. His head connected with the glass, and punched a hole with the sound of shattering. Harry ignored the feeling of a gash opening in the back of his scalp, and the subsequent blood dripping down his neck, as he pushed himself forwards again and twirled the wand that was in his grip and that had been moved from his curser.

"CRUCIO!" Draco shrieked in a voice full of fury, with the tip of his wand trained on Harry's chest.

Harry fell to a knee at the sensation. Fueled by hate, as it was, Draco's spell… stung. And Harry's balance was hindered by a head wound.

Stupidly, the blonde and his henchmen had stepped into the compartment to assault their target. Daphne already had her wand in hand, and Tracy was quick on the draw. That was why the spell's effects lasted but a second before Crabbe, the closest to Daphne, fell to the floor shrieking and clawing at his gums as his teeth stabbed upwards.

Draco was hit with a disarming curse as Goyle fell to the ground unconscious. Harry guessed Tracy had been the perpetrator of both these spells, as she did not have a stomach for violence but that made little difference to the remaining Malfoy male, as Harry's wand _flicked_ upwards and Draco was flung into the corridor. Someone made a noise of pain as the blonde hit them and carried on, but the sound was overshadowed by the _crash_ of his body slamming into the opposite carriage's door and passing through.

Before the gathered crowd could react, Harry was through the open door and passing through their midsts. He shouldered one boy out of the way; later, Harry would be unable to say even which house the younger male had been in, but the boy was sent sprawling to the floor with the wind knocked out of him.

Draco was coughing blood as Harry entered the compartment, and an angry gasp was all that the blond got out before Harry had him by the professionally-maintained hair, and responded with a growl of his own. The emerald-eyed teenager lifted the boy without ceremony and Draco gave a noise of panic as he watched the wall rapidly near his gaze.

With a _crunch_, Harry broke Malfoy's nose and released the now-messy hair. The boy crumpled and fell to the floor as blood poured down his chin; Harry assumed that there had been a moment of unconsciousness, as Draco's hands snapped up to his face only after lying, immobile, on the carpet for several heartbeats.

Harry watched the postured boy's hands shake as they came back bloody, and Draco paled at the image; most wizards rarely saw blood.

"Accio Draco Malfoy's wand." Harry said, waving his own in the upper half of a circle. He caught the stick easily in his left hand, and held it in a tight grip as he raised it to show Draco.

"See this?" The Peverell-Potter asked. Draco's eyes moved to the item in question. Harry pressed his thumb against the top, and _pushed_. The wand broke.

"No!" The owner of the two halves yelled, with shock in his eyes at losing his prized possession. Idly, the breaker wondered how he would acquire a new one; Lucius being a governor would have gotten him out of school to visit Ollivanders, but now that influence was gone.

Harry tossed it at the defeated teen. "You're just a kid, Draco. Make better choices than your father did, or you'll end up going to your grave in the same way." He turned and walked out of the compartment, as Draco stared at the broken wood in his hands.

As he stepped out into the hallway again, Harry noted that there were more people in attendance; some in the corridor staring at him, others sticking their heads out of the relative safety of their compartments to see what the commotion was about. He ignored them and their shocked expressions, though, as Draco let out a wordless yell.

Harry turned on the spot, and extended his hand in the shape of a claw. A claw that Malfoy's throat collided with, as the teen leapt at him with the intention to attack from behind. The hanging blonde choked and gasped as Harry held him aloft. Cold green eyes bored, unblinkingly, into fearful grey as Malfoy's pale face reddened. Blood dripped onto Harry's hand from the broken nose of Draco.

Draco slapped at Harry's wrist as the grip tightened. And nobody did anything to help as his face turned purple. Nor as the slapping stopped, and Draco went limp. Harry felt his pulse weaken, and then had his attention pulled away.

"HARRY!" A familiar, and unwelcome, voice yelled. Thomas Potter's breathing was heavy, though not so much as the bushy-haired girl next to him, and the younger boy had a look of worry in his mouth as he looked at his limp nemesis. "Harry, let him go!"

It was tempting to hold Draco by the throat for a while longer. It would save him a job later, when the Daddy's-boy followed Lucius' path. That, and Harry felt the urge to kill the little bastard; Draco was already on the path towards hurting the people he cared about. Why not kill him here, today?

Because there were dozens of people watching him.

With a grunt, Harry let the boy fall to the floor, and walked away from the unconscious boy. As he stepped over the prone figure, Harry noticed that Hermione Granger was hurrying through the crowd, no doubt to heal Draco as best as she could. Slipping back into his own compartment where he retook his seat across from Tracy and Daphne, with Astoria seated next to him. They were staring at him; they must have realised what had been going through his head.

Hopefully, the other students had not.

"HARRY POTTER!" A voice, grating at this pitch, screamed through the door as the bushy haired girl _pounded_ on the door. "OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!" She ordered.

Harry ignored her.

"I AM A PREFECT! I DEMAND THAT YOU OPEN THIS DOOR IMMEDIATELY!" She continued, yelling furiously.

Daphne began to rise, with a scowl marring her beautiful face and her wand in hand.

"Don't." Harry asked of her, standing himself, instead. "No need for you to get a telling off, too."

"A telling off? You were acting in self defense. He used an unforgivable on you…" Daphne said, with no small amount of confusion in her tone.

"OPEN THIS DOOR!" The occupants of the cabin ignored the girl's fury.

"But Ms Granger doesn't know that. Malfoy's smart enough to know that if he goes to a teacher it'll end up with him expelled, and most likely in Azkaban, and so will give some half-baked lie when Snape asks him what happened. She, though," He nodded at the angry face of the Gryffindor Fifth Year Prefect. "Will go straight to Mcgonagall. She'll try to assign me detentions. I'll ignore them. She'll take points off me, and I won't care. So, she'll go see the Headmaster and Dumbledore will have a meeting with me."

"I DEMAND THAT YOU OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

"Where he'll also try to understand what's going on with you? And see if you can still be saved and turned to his way of thinking?" Daphne added.

"YOU'RE ONLY MAKING THINGS WORSE FOR YOURSELF!"

Harry blinked. "Yeah… I guess he will." That should have been something he thought of himself, but his mind was slow at the moment. With a shrug of his shoulders, Harry moved over to the door, and slid it open. He easily pasted a snarl on his face, and leant forwards to bring himself level with the girl. His green eyes shone the colour of the Killing Curse, and Harry spoke in a low tone, full of hate.

"_Leave_."

She did. Quickly.

-()()-

Harry stepped off the train dressed and ready for the feast and school year, having dressed in the latter half of the trip along with most of the other students. The air was crisp and he took a lungful in, ignoring the babble of children about him as his sharp eyes roamed the crowd. The crowd was the same size as always; the Beauxbaton students would be joining them after the sorting was finished, since their journey was longer.

His hand trembled, as Harry raised it to move the shaggy hair out of his eyes. He glared at the offending limb, and pushed the strands away before looking towards the carriages. He found Tracy waving at him from one, calling him over, and cracked his neck while moving through the crowd towards her.

The thestrals looked skinnier than Harry remembered, as he observed the still equestrians waiting to be told to move. How strange that Hagrid would let them go without sufficient nourishment.

Come to think of it, the Half Giant was missing. It was a female voice calling the first years. Had he eloped with Madame Maxime? Because there was very little chance of Dumbledore dismissing the Gamekeeper, and Hagrid himself seemed to enjoy the job he was in charge of. Curious.

Harry entered the carriage behind Tracy, and took a seat between Astoria and the wall of the carriage against which he leant. He had failed to get any sleep on the journey; expected, but far from welcome. And it was not helped by the fact that he was only comfortable looking so weak in front of a very select group of people; at least, when he _was_ this weak. If he was strong, appearing weak would only lead to idiots attacking him without the necessary strength, but in this state fighting school children would be a very bad idea; the only way he would win would to take the fight seriously. And that would cost his opponent their life.

The carriage began to move with a jolt, and Harry sighed as his head fell back at the movement. His gaze fell onto the ceiling, and he found it was charmed to be see through. Strange, that wasn't normally one of the spells cast on the carriages. Why would they-

Ah. Overhead, Harry watched the Beauxbatons massive blue carriage, pulled by the Abraxi-Pegasi, fly around the castle. The black haired teen was mildly confused; how early had they left, to arrive at the same time as the Hogwarts express? Unless the carriage was faster than he thought? But surely the horses could not maintain such high speeds for any serious distance… or maybe he was wrong. It was a magical means of transportation, after all, and they rarely obeyed logic.

This display was probably a good way to remind the students that the other school's castle would not be repaired until the next year at least, and that their population would be as large as last year. Their should not be much ill will demonstrated, though. Anyone xenophobic would have grown used to the presence of foreigners during the tournament.

Unless there was a spectacularly hateful new addition to the school, that was. But who ever heard of an eleven year old with such feelings? Children learned such behaviour, but at that age they only emulated their parents. And, as far as Harry knew, Professor Grubby-Plank was not a racist.

Harry frowned. It felt like he was missing something. Something he would have caught, had his mind not been so sluggish.

But what?


End file.
